


Just a Spark

by roseclipping



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Kiss, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Burn, tooth rotting fluff you will get a cavity, two idiots in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-09-27 05:07:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9971147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseclipping/pseuds/roseclipping
Summary: “You’re a brilliant man, Hamilton. As much as it may pain me to admit it. But stressing yourself so much,runningso much… it’ll send you to an early grave. And that’d be a damn shame.”~After a fight with his roommates, Alexander asks Jefferson if he can stay with him for a while.The spark ignites.*completed 4/2/17!!!*





	1. the proposition

**Author's Note:**

> i had an idea for a chaptered fic, and i ran with it. enjoy.

_“John_ , I’ve told you a thousand times, can you not smoke _in the house?_ Especially not when I’m trying to study?”

Alexander clenched his jaw and tried to keep his voice steady as he turned the corner to confront John, who was currently lounging on the sofa smoking his brains away. The heavy, pungent smell of cannabis was already so ingrained in the apartment as it was, the smoke having practically seeped into the walls over years of John’s– and occasionally Hercules– annoying little habit. John actively smoking it magnified the stench by about 500%. It was unbearable.

John rolled his eyes and took another long drag from the joint, purposefully blowing the smoke on Alexander’s direction. “Dude. It’s one joint. And you're in your room, anyways.” 

“Yes, and I can smell it perfectly well in there. That thing stinks. And I have a paper due in a week, it’s distracting me.”

“Go to a coffee shop or something. Work on your damn paper there.” 

Alex grit his teeth. “I _always_ go to a coffee shop. But it’s _late_ and I’d really rather like to work here, in my own bed. But I can't _do_ that when this place reeks of pot so badly I can literally feel my brain cells dying.”

If John noticed the the way Alex’s knuckles were turning white from how tightly they were clenched at his thighs, he didn't show it. He was probably too high to care. He merely shrugged and lazily inspected the joint in his hand, not even looking at Alex anymore.

“It’s my apartment. I’m not going anywhere.”

“It’s my apartment _too,_ asshole!”

 _That_ certainly got John’s attention. He looked up at Alex in annoyance, and there was a decent amount of venom in his voice when he responded. 

“Oh please. You barely even pay for it.” There was a glimmer of some kind of twisted pride in John’s eyes. He knew that struck a nerve.

Alexander’s eyes flashed. That was a low blow. Alex _did_ pay his share of rent, as much as he could, but ‘as much as he could’ was barely anything. He was dirt poor to begin with, and even with the hefty scholarships law school had pretty much eaten up every last dollar to his name. Still, he earned as much money as he could, tutoring undergrads and taking up simple jobs here and there when he had the time, and every spare penny he earned went straight to the rent. He wasn’t the type to live off of handouts.

“When did you become such a _dick?_ ” Alex said, seething.

John scoffed. “When did you become such a recluse?” 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

John rolled his eyes yet again, and Alex bit back a _‘careful, they’ll get stuck like that.’_ That would only add fuel to the fire, and he liked to pretend to have _some_ semblance of self-control.

“Come on, Alex. Ever since Gil went back to France you’ve turned into a hermit. Me and Herc invite you to go clubbing or see a movie or whatever and it’s always ‘No, John, I have work to do, I have to write a paper that’s due in ten months, law school this, essays that, yada yada yada.’ You just hole up in your room all day and you’re always grouchy and you complain about every fucking thing I do.” John narrowed his eyes, his joint now forgotten on the table and his voice quickly rising in volume. “And you don’t pay rent,” he added, just to be an _ass,_ because he _knew_ it would get under Alex’s skin like nothing else.

Alex sputtered. “You’re being _ridiculous!_ Herc, help me out here!” He gestured frantically at Hercules, who had been sitting in the recliner, silent up to this point.

Hercules looked between the two, clearly uncomfortable with being dragged into the argument. After a brief pause, he sighed and said, “Let the man live, Alex. This is his apartment too, you know.”

Alex huffed angrily. Of course, of _course_ Hercules would side with John, what was Alex expecting? Fights like these were happening more often than not, and Hercules _always_ sided with John. It was sad, how broken their friendship had become. The four of them were inseparable in college– Alex, John, Hercules, and Laf. Graduation was a piece of cake and the four of them all made sure to live on the same block. Alex and Laf shared an apartment and John and Hercules shared an apartment, and everything was peachy keen until just over four months ago, when Laf went back to France on some family business, leaving Alex without a roommate. John and Hercules invited him to live with them, which was fine, but then they started dating and suddenly Alex was third wheeling all day, every day, which, unsurprisingly, sucked. The fact that Alex’s second year of law school was putting him under an enormous amount of stress did nothing to improve the situation, and the tension that grew between the three– well, between Alex and the two of them– was unbearable. They bickered and fought constantly, and Alex found himself very often wanting to punch two men he had once considered to be some of his dearest companions.  

“Sure. _Sure._ Let him live. I’ll just forget about the real, actual _career_ I’m trying to pursue and let him spend the rest of his days smoking his life away on the couch,” Alex spat. Hot, angry shades of crimson and blushing red were ebbing their way into his vision, and he no longer fought to keep the contempt from his voice.

“Can you chill for like, one second?” John yelled. He was standing now, the angered expression on his face perfectly mirroring the one on Alex’s own.

Alex’s jaw set. “No, I can’t,” he said, low and heavy, his voice adopting a sort of quiet rage. “And you know what–” An idea struck him briefly, and just like that, his mind was made up. “–Fuck this. Fuck you. I need some space.” He turned on his heel, ignoring the shouts behind him, and raced to his bedroom. He grabbed the old green duffel bag that’s been on his desk since forever, tossing it onto his bed and hastily shoving everything he needed inside. It wasn’t much– his laptop, his meds, his books for school, his phone charger, a toothbrush, a hairbrush, and a balled-up wad of shirts and socks and various clothes he ripped from his wardrobe. If he forgot anything, oh well. He’d live.

He shouldered the bag with a grunt and stormed back through the living room and made a beeline for the front door. He was only stopped when a hand not-so-gently grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back, spinning him around and forcing him to face a very angry John.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” John said, and Alex wrinkled his nose as the smell of pot flooded his senses.

“I told you. I need some space. Let go of me.”

John opened up his mouth to protest, but was interrupted by Hercules, “Let him go, John.”

Alex almost laughed. Of course the _one time_ Hercules agrees with him, it’s when Alex is trying to leave the apartment. Fucking fantastic.

John huffed, but reluctantly let go of Alex. The air was tense, and Hercules and John stared expectantly at Alex. He paused, doubting himself for a second, because maybe this _wasn’t_ the best idea and maybe he should just walk back in and apologize and try to sort things out–

No. He was too prideful for that. Instead, he took one last look at the apartment before backing out and slamming the door.

–––

Alexander was out of the apartment building and into the brisk December air in what felt like a matter of seconds. He wrapped his scarf tighter around his neck and fished his phone out of his pocket, scrolling through his contacts until he found Eliza. His thumb was a mere millisecond away from hitting the call button before he remembered, Eliza and Angelica were upstate visiting their father, who had recently fallen ill and needed the extra care. He was talking to Angelica about it not two days ago, how had he forgotten?

He groaned. _Now what?_ There was no way he was going back to the apartment, like a dog with its tail between its legs. Absolutely not. Hotels were out of the question, way too expensive. But what other options did he have? He scrolled through his contacts, searching for someone, _anyone_ that might let him crash for a bit.

His contact list was depressingly short, as it turned out. There was Burr… no, that wouldn’t work. Burr would most definitely say no. He was a man of solitude, Alexander knew this. He didn’t even live with his long-term girlfriend. He and Alex were barely friends anyway, really more like work acquaintances, and something about Burr just rubbed Alex the wrong way. He hovered for a brief second over Madison’s name, the two had been sort-of-friends in college, but dismissed him, too. They hadn’t spoken in over a year, Alex wasn’t even 100% sure he still lived in New York.

He was starting to panic now. _Do I really not have any more friends?_ It seemed so. Alex was just about to mentally prepare himself for the shame of returning to John and Herc before his finger brushed over ‘Jefferson’ and he paused. Maybe… just maybe, that could work. They had known each other for a while, had practically every class together in college– the problem with that, though, was that they hated each other in college. _Hated._ But once they graduated and went their separate ways– Alexander to law school and Thomas jumping right into some job in government– the burning flame of animosity had simmered down into something of a respectful rivalry. They bickered often, sure, but they could be polite if need be. And while they didn’t make any active efforts to socialize, they saw each other fairly regularly thanks to Laf’s seemingly endless parties and events.

They weren’t always on the best of terms, but they learned how to be civil. And as much as his younger self would hate to admit it, the man wasn’t heartless. He’d witnessed Thomas drop everything and rush to Alex and Laf’s apartment to take care of Laf when he contracted pneumonia last year, and he knew Thomas used to do volunteer work at the local animal shelter in college. That had to count for something, right?

Still, it wasn’t ideal. But what other choice did he have?

Alex breathed in a sigh and pressed ‘Call’.

The phone rang once, twice, three times before he got an answer.

“Hamilton?”

Alex took a quick breath, trying to figure out the best way to phrase this.

“Yeah, Jefferson, hey,” he began rather eloquently, “listen, I know this is gonna sound like, really weird but would it be in any way possible for me to crash at your place for a few nights?”

There was a brief silence on the other end. Probably Jefferson trying to figure out if he had heard Alex right.

“My place?” he asked after a moment, sounding bewildered.

Alexander was at the ready to launch into another long explanation. “I’ve been rooming with John and Herc since Laf left, but we’ve started fighting a lot and I just had a huge argument with them– well, John, mostly– and I need to clear my head and get some space but the Schuyler sisters are with their father right now and, as it turns out, I have no other friends. And so I’m kind of freaking out because I have nowhere to go.”

“Why can’t you just get a hotel room?”

Alex bit his lip. “Can’t afford it.”

He heard a sigh from the other line. “You really don’t have any other options?”

“You’re my last shot. I’ve got nowhere else to turn.” The words felt heavy coming from Alex’s mouth. It was a little degrading, begging hospitality from a former nemesis. But he saw no other way.

“Fine. Okay. You can come.” Alex breathed a huge sigh of relief. “I’ll text you my address.”

Jefferson hung up and a minute later a text came in with his address. Oh good, that wasn’t too far, maybe only a ten minute drive. Alex hailed a taxi and gave the driver the address, and before he knew it was pulling into the driveway.

Jefferson owned a house, because of _course_ he did, an elegant little brownstone townhouse with black furnishings. Alex thanked the cab driver and got out, shooting a quick ‘I’m here’ text to Jefferson before climbing the steps and knocking on the door.

The door swung open and Alex was faced with Jefferson, looking more casual than Alex had ever seen him. The usual suit, or at the very least collared shirt and black jeans, was traded for sweatpants and a loose shirt bearing the word ‘OAKLAND’ in large print, and he donned a pair of thick-frame glasses.

“Hey,” Alex said awkwardly. He rocked back and forth in his feet, unsure of what to do. Jefferson nodded in greeting and stepped to the side, allowing Alex to step into the house.

“Apologies for the mess. I've been meaning to hire someone to come clean it but I haven't gotten around to it,” Jefferson said from behind him. Alex bit back a laugh at Jefferson’s idea of ‘messy.’ Sure, it was a bit cluttered and there was a thin layer of dust coating various surfaces here and there, but after living with the combined organizational skills of himself and John, it may as well have been spotless.

“You have a nice place,” Alex said, looking around. It had a very chic aesthetic, white walls with cool grey furniture and little accents of pleasant turquoise and sea-foam green. A couple of abstract art pieces hung from the walls and various shelving units were filled with books and succulents and other little tchotchkes. Most refreshingly, though, was the distinct lack of the smell of weed.

“Thanks. Follow me, I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping,” Jefferson said, and turned on his heel, not looking back to see if Alex was following.

Jefferson led Alex up a flight of stairs and down a hall and stopped at a door at the very end of the hallway. He opened the door and flicked on the light. It was a decent sized room, bigger than Alex’s own. A bed stood in the middle of the room, adorned with a slightly excessive amount of pillows and a light blue duvet. Across from it sat a bookshelf, and next to that an empty desk and chair. Alex walked in and dropped his bag on the bed.

“Is that all you have?” Jefferson asked from behind him. Alex turned around to see Jefferson standing with a slightly judgemental look, arms crossed and one eyebrow raised.

Alex flushed. “It’s all I need,” he said, a little defensively. Jefferson just shrugged.

“Okay then. Let me know when you realize you forgot something. In the meantime, though, come downstairs. I have wine.” Jefferson’s voice was monotone, almost apathetic. Alex started to say _no thank you, I need to work on my paper_ , but before he could say anything Jefferson had set a brisk pace back down the hall and Alex had no choice but to follow.

Jefferson was already in the kitchen with two glasses by the time Alex had climbed back down the stairs– how had the man moved so fast? He watched Jefferson grab an expensive-looking bottle of wine from a cabinet next to the stove. Wordlessly, he poured some into each of the glasses and handed one to Alex, giving a little nod in the direction of the living room. Alex understood. He made his way over to the couch and sat down, waiting for Jefferson to come over.

“Alright,” Jefferson said, sitting down on the other end of the couch a moment later, “So tell me. Why, exactly, are you running away from your roommates and hiding in home?” His tone was blunt. No chance of small talk, then.

Alex shifted in his seat. “I told you. We had a fight.”

Jefferson rolled his eyes. “Yes, you said on the phone. But what was the fight _about?_ And why couldn’t you work it out, like mature adults?”

 _There are like, a hundred ways you could’ve phrased that nicer,_ Alex thought, a little affronted. He supposed he couldn’t really be complaining, though. After all, Jefferson _had_ agreed to let him stay.

“Well… John smokes pot a lot, and I hate it, and he was smoking a joint in the living room but I was trying to study and it was getting really distracting and so I told him to stop and he didn’t and then it escalated and we started yelling and… yeah,” Alex ended rather lamely. He felt his face flush, telling the story out loud _did_ make it seem like a rather childish thing to get so fired up over.

Jefferson seemed to agree. He raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “That’s a pretty stupid thing to run away for.”

Alex huffed. He didn’t _get_ it. “It’s not just that. We’ve been fighting a lot, like a _lot_ , ever since I moved in. Which sucks, because John’s been my best friend since college and we _never_ fought back then, not once.” Alex paused. “Then again, we didn’t live together, either.”

“Ah. So this was more like the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

Alex nodded. “Exactly.”

Jefferson took another sip of wine, his expression something Alex couldn’t quite name. Calculating. Amused, almost. “Have you talked to John about it? Like, really talked?”

“Yes,” Alex said almost immediately, then thought about it for a second. “No,” he corrected himself, almost sheepishly.

A short, clipped laugh escaped Jefferson. “Well, there’s your problem." 

“And what’s that supposed to mean?" 

Jefferson stared at him, unimpressed. “Are you that dumb? Talk to John. Work shit out. Problem solved.”  
  
_Problem solved._ Like it was that simple. Alex could laugh.

“It’s not that easy. You don’t know John. Hell, you don’t know me, not really. I’m bad at talking–” Alex faltered, quickly revising that claim– “I mean, I’m bad at talking about that kind of stuff. And John is bad at listening.”

Jefferson’s eyes seemed to burn holes into Alex’s own. “I _do_ know you, Hamilton. Maybe not your favorite color or when your birthday is, but I know you, and I know that you run from your problems and will continue to run from them until you die from exhaustion until someone literally has to build a brick wall in front of you, and even then you will try as hard as you can to climb over, crawl under, or break through that wall. So why, Hamilton, are you running?”

There was a minute of silence as Jefferson’s word weighed heavy in the air. Alex was immediately filled with indignation because he wasn’t _running_ , as Jefferson put it, he wasn’t a coward who couldn’t face the hardships in life, he was quite the opposite– then his words really settled in and Alex realized the uncompromising truth behind them. Jefferson was right, absolutely right. Alexander was a little in awe; how had Jefferson managed to gleam all that from a mutual hatred in college? It seemed the man was more observant than Alex gave him credit for.

“Why do you care so much?” Alex asked. It just didn’t make sense. He and Jefferson weren’t friends, there was no reason Jefferson should be even the slightest bit interested in this.

“You’re staying in my apartment.” _Ah._ That explains it.

Alex felt his face heat up. “I can leave if you–” 

He was cut short by Jefferson. “That’s not what I mean. Look, I don’t really give a shit if you stay here or not. As long as you don’t go through my shit and you clean up after yourself. But I’m not going to let you hole up here forever and not _deal_ with your shit.” 

“I fail to see where you’re going with this.” Alex straightened, trying to keep his composure.

Jefferson heaved a sigh. “Do you want to continue living with John?”

Alex hadn’t thought about that. On the one hand, of course he did, John was his best friend. But on the other, more prominent hand, their living together seemed to, for whatever reason, be disastrous for said friendship. But he couldn’t just turn his back on him, right?

_You already did that, Alex. That is literally why you are here._

“I… don’t know,” he admitted.

“Of course you don’t.” Jefferson paused. “I have a proposition.” 

Alex blinked. “And that is?”

Jefferson was quiet another moment, looking pensive. “I let you stay here for a month. One month. Free of charge. I’ll even give you my Netflix password. And during that month, you need to… figure things out.”

“Figure things out?” Alex echoed.

“With John. With yourself. You’ve got a lot of shit you’re holding back, Hamilton. I can tell. That’s not healthy. So I’m giving you a month to… straighten things out. Talk to John. Work things over. If you make up, you move back in with him and everything will be sunshine and rainbows. If you decide you can’t live under the same roof as him any longer…” Jefferson trailed off, eyes drifting as if in deep thought. “...I’ll help you get an apartment.”

Alex’s eyes snapped up at that. “That won’t work. I can’t afford to live on my own.”

“I’ll pay for it,” Jefferson said far too casually, as if he didn’t realize the very _idea_ went against everything Alex believed in. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he said quickly, before Alex got a chance to respond, “It won’t be a handout. I’m not just going to _give_ you an apartment. You’ll pay me back in full the minute you can, once you’re the world’s best lawyer and disgustingly rich. But I have the money, and I can help you get on your feet, if you need it.”

This was absurd. It was one thing for Jefferson to let Alex crash in his home for a bit, but _this?_ He was being nice, _way_ too nice to be realistic. Life didn’t work like that, Alex learned that early on.

“I don’t need you to coddle me. Or _buy me an apartment._ I’m not helpless.”

Jefferson shrugged. “Then make up with John. Or leave. The choice is yours. But that’s my offer.”

Alex nodded, albeit reluctantly. It still didn’t add up, though. There had to be another reason for Jefferson being so benevolent, an underlying motive. There had to be.

“Why are you doing this?” Alex asked, his throat oddly dry.

Jefferson’s voice was serious, much more serious than it had been up to this point.

“You’re a brilliant man, Hamilton. As much as it may pain my younger self to admit it. But stressing yourself so much, _running_ so much… it’ll send you to an early grave. And that’d be a damn shame.”

Alex swallowed and nodded weakly, still somewhat unconvinced. But he went with it.

“Okay,” he said, his voice faint. “One month.” 

“One month,” Jefferson agreed.

The silence that followed felt like an eternity.

“It’s late,” Jefferson said eventually, breaking the quiet. “You should go to bed.”

It wasn’t late, not really, but Jefferson’s tone was not one of a question or suggestion rather than an order. Alex wasn’t about to complain, though. He had a paper to write.

Jefferson’s words echoed in his head until he reached his room. _One month. One month._

“Okay,” Alex muttered to himself, still trying to wrap his head around the absurdity of the whole situation. “So we’re doing this.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haven't decided if i want to update on a schedule with this yet. i suppose i will if it's well received, but who knows.
> 
> this is currently unbeta'd, but if any of you are interested in betaing for me that would be greatly appreciated!! message me on [tumblr](http://www.roseclipping.tumblr.com) if you're interested (preferably if you have writing/betaing experience already x)
> 
> that being said, i hope you enjoyed this, or would at least like to see where it goes.
> 
> comments and kudos are much appreciated! thanks for reading, lovelies!


	2. the dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which alex learns that jefferson can cook.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's fluff. pure, unapologetic, domestic fluff. whoops. (real actual conflict is on the way though, no worries x)
> 
> enjoy!

Alexander woke before the sun rose, as usual. It took a minute for him to get his bearings, to remember where he was and what had happened and why he was in a bed much bigger than the one he was used to–

Ah, right. He was at Jefferson’s.

His thoughts went back to the previous night, to the wine and the talking and the _month,_ _one month_ … Jefferson’s words ran through his head over and over again like a broken record. Would he really stay here an entire _month?_ Did he even want to? Jefferson had a nice place, much nicer than what Alex was accustomed to, but it seemed a bit odd to stay in his enemy’s– well, ex-enemy, at this point– home. Then again, it _was_ Jefferson’s idea in the first place.

He still couldn’t figure out why Jefferson had offered all that he had in the first place. One month, he had said. It seemed entirely excessive. One whole month, to stay here and… what? “Figure it out,” as Jefferson put it. As if _that_ clarifies anything. What does that even mean, _figure it out?_ Obviously there was the thing with John, but that could be solved pretty easily with a couple days to cool off and then a phone call. At least, that’s what he thought at first. But then there were Jefferson’s words again, wriggling themselves into the forefront of his brain. Did he want to continue living with John? He didn’t know, not really. One phone call might solve this problem, but who’s to say there won’t be another fight in the future? What would he do then? Not come running to Jefferson, that’s for sure.

Perhaps a month wasn’t overkill, after all.

Alex felt around on the nightstand until he found his phone and checked the time. 4:18. He had a few notifications; a text from Eliza, a snap from Laf… nothing from John, though. He wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or relieved.

After a few minutes of fucking around on his phone, the bed became less comfortable and more stifling, so he rolled out, grabbed his laptop, and went downstairs. It was not before reaching the bottom that he realized Jefferson was probably still asleep, and hesitated; unsure of what to do. It seemed impolite to help oneself to someone’s kitchen while the host was asleep, but it seemed even more impolite to wake the host up in the early hours of the morning.

He settled for making coffee, figuring that would be acceptable, and settled on the couch, opening his laptop and jumping right back into his work where he left off the night before.

Jefferson came down the stairs at around seven, fully dressed, clad in an impeccable grey suit. 

“How long have you been up?” he said, eyeing Alex with an eyebrow raised.

Alex shrugged. “Since like four.”

“Why am I not surprised,” Jefferson said, his lips twitching up ever so slightly. “Have you eaten?”

“No, but you don’t have to–”

“Shut up, you need to eat,” Jefferson cut him off bluntly. “How do you like eggs? Over easy or scrambled?”

Alex thought about refusing, because really, Jefferson has done enough, he doesn’t need to go to the trouble, but the expression upon Jefferson’s face told him he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“Over easy, I guess,” Alex said, causing Jefferson to wrinkle his nose in distaste. “What?”

“Only uncultured fools take them over easy. Scrambled eggs are by far superior.” 

Alex rolled his eyes. “Then why’d you even offer them?”

“It was a test. You failed.”

He was very quickly remembering why he used to hate the bastard.

They shared a quick breakfast in which Jefferson forced Alex to eat some of his own _‘clearly superior’_ scrambled eggs. They were good, incredibly good, but Alex made a big show of screwing his face and making retching noises and proclaiming that over easy will forever be the best way to cook eggs, which earned him a slap on the wrist and a dirty look from Jefferson to which he cheekily replied with a shit-eating grin.

Alex was almost _sad_ when Jefferson stood up to gather his things and go to work, which seemed a bit ridiculous. Then again, everything that had happened so far with Jefferson was a bit ridiculous, so what did he expect?

“What time do you go to class?” Jefferson asked.

“Not till three. I only have one class on Thursdays,” Alex replied. Shit. What was he going to do until then?

Jefferson seemed to have read his thoughts. “You can stay here, if you want. Just don’t go through my shit and don’t make a mess of the place. Or you can go somewhere else, I don’t care.” 

Alex sighed. That was a relief, he really didn’t feel like going out yet. “I think I’ll just stay here, then. I have a lot of studying to do.” 

Jefferson nodded. “I’ll be back at six. Help yourself to food if you want.” 

With that, he was gone.

Alex sighed and plopped back down on the couch. Might as well get back to work.

–––

Three and a half hours later, Alex was restless. His fingers were cramped and stiff from typing pretty much non-stop, but he had finished the first draft of his paper, so he reckoned he could take a little break.

The problem is, there wasn’t much for him to _do._ His class was at three, which left him two hours before he had to leave. He wasn’t big on the whole ‘downtime’ thing, but his scarce moments of relaxation usually involved either video games, playing piano, or going out somewhere with his friends. Unfortunately for him, though, he was currently out of friends to socialize with, had no idea if Jefferson owned a piano, and really didn’t peg Jefferson as a video game type.

Suddenly, an idea came to him. His thoughts strayed back to the previous night, when he just arrived and Jefferson had greeted him inside. _‘Apologies for the mess,’_ he had said, _‘I've been meaning to hire someone to come clean it but I haven't gotten around to it.’_ Cleaning someone’s home while they’re away at work… that didn’t constitute as weird, right? Right.

(Later on, Alex would look back and realize that _yes_ cleaning someone’s home without their knowledge or permission _definitely_ counted as weird and probably overstepped all sorts of boundaries. Alexander was never known for his ability to think things through.)

In the meantime, though, the idea seemed perfect. It would give him something to do, and Jefferson’s home wasn’t terribly messy to begin with, so it wouldn’t be that hard. Plus, it could serve as payment in sorts for letting Alex stay, seeing as paying with real money wasn’t really an option. Besides, if Alex _did_ try to give Jefferson money, he was sure Jefferson would refuse and give it back. What would he do in this circumstance? Dirty his house again? Unlikely– a move like that seemed far too Hamilton-ish for Jefferson’s tastes. 

Alex got to work immediately, scrummaging through hall closets until he found the cleaning supplies. He settled into a rhythm, dusting and vacuuming and washing every surface until the house– well, the downstairs, at least– was spotless. He then moved to the kitchen and proceeded to take everything out of the cupboards, throwing out anything that looked or smelled expired and putting them back in a sufficiently organized fashion. 

Two hours flew by and he was standing in the living room, inspecting his handiwork with much satisfaction. The place looked great, if he did say so himself. He made a mental note to make sure he was back before six in order to witness Jefferson’s reaction.

With a satisfied grin he left the apartment, taking care to turn off all the lights before leaving– Jefferson had mentioned over breakfast how concerned he was about the environment and saving energy and all that. His jovial spirits were not swayed in the slightest by the rain that decided to start pouring almost right after Alex stepped out of the house, or by the ever-awful sweaty, crowded subway, or even by the clearly-hungover student that reeked of B.O. and broken dreams deciding today would be the _perfect_ day to sit next to Alex in class– _really, getting drunk on a Wednesday? What are you even doing in law school?–_ and he ended up waltzing back into Jefferson’s home at 5:50 on the dot wearing the same grin he had on leaving the place.

–––

Jefferson was not, unfortunately, home at six.

He wasn’t even home at seven.

When Alex first arrived he had planted himself on the couch and simply fixed his gaze at the door, occasionally switching to check the time on his phone, waiting in high anticipation for it to open and for Jefferson to see Alex’s _surprise_.  

By the time an hour passed, he had long since tired of doing that and had taken to lying horizontally on the couch with his computer on his chest, eyes glued to the screen and fingers typing furiously. 

He was so engrossed in his work, that he gave a startled jump when the door swung open at half-past seven quite furiously and a very pissed-off Jefferson stormed inside.

“Sorry, I had to stay late, you will not _believe_ the shit that happened today–” Alex closed his laptop and stood, unsure as whether he should approach the man. “–fucking _Charles Lee_ and his low-life, good-for-nothing pretentious ass, what a complete _dick–_ ” Jefferson was hastily shrugging off his suit jacket and loosening his tie, clearly exhausted.

Alex took a few cautious steps forward. “Rough day?”

Jefferson scoffed. “You have no idea.” He sighed and rubbed his palms over his eyes. “Charles Lee got promoted over me, _Charles fucking Lee!_ Just because his father is friends with the boss. Nepotism, I tell you, complete and total _nepotism–”_ Jefferson faltered as his eyes strayed and he seemed to take in his surroundings.

He blinked once, then twice.

“What–” he said quietly, looking around the room. “Did you… clean my house?” He stared at Alex incredulously, eyes wide.

A smug little smile crept onto Alex’s face. “Maybe.”

Jefferson just kept on staring. “Why?”

Alex’s grin faltered. Was Jefferson not happy? Shit… did he think it was weird? Oh god, he definitely fucked up this time. “I thought you would appreciate it… and it's the least I can do, what with you letting me stay here–”

“Alexander, you don't have to be my _maid,”_ Jefferson cut him off, and the use of his first name certainly did not go unnoticed by Alex, “I don't– it's not _like_ that, you don't owe me anything–”

Alex put a hand on Jefferson’s shoulder in an attempt to calm him. “Hey, hey. After all you’ve done for me, I had to pay you back somehow, and I knew you wouldn’t accept money. If I had any, that is.”

Jefferson heaved a reluctant sigh. “Fine. Okay. But you’re going to your room, and you can’t come out until I call you.”

“What?” Alex stuttered, baffled by the order. Surely this did not elicit such an… adolescent punishment, if it were to elicit any punishment at all.

It seemed, though, that punishment was not what Jefferson had in mind. “Because I’m going to make a bomb-ass dinner for us and it’s going to be a surprise, so go study or something in your room. And if you come out before I tell you, I swear to God I will beat you with a spatula.”

Alex could’ve laughed. He did laugh, actually, loud and unapologetically, because Jefferson was making him _dinner_ , and that clever little smile that had found its way onto his face so many times that day possessed his features once more as he climbed the stairs.

–––

It was not until 9:45 when Alex received a text from Jefferson saying ‘come downstairs foods ready.’ Thank fuck, he was starving.

He ran a brush through his hair a few times and on impulse changed into a new shirt (the one he had been wearing had gotten wrinkled from laying on the bed) and hurried down the stairs.

A delicious smell greeted him once he got to the bottom, and an even more delicious sight greeted him when he turned the corner into the kitchen. Thomas stood by the table in a crisp black button up– he had changed his shirt too, perhaps he had gotten sauce on his previous one– and a beautiful meal was set elegantly on the table. Some sort of pasta dish, it seemed, with a deep red sauce was delicately arranged on both of the plates, and a basket of bread sat to one side of the table, a bottle of wine on the other. In the middle of the table, separating the two empty seats, a red candle flickered in the dim light.

Alex raised an eyebrow. “Candlelight?”

Jefferson flushed. “I thought it would be nice.” He began to fidget, clearly rethinking his choices, and Alex was reminded of not three hours previous when he was in an almost identical situation.

“It’s lovely,” he proclaimed, hastening to soothe Jefferson’s qualms. He strode over to his chair and sat down, inspecting the contents of the plate. “This looks amazing. What is it?”

Jefferson sank into his own chair. “Puttanesca. Old family recipe. Trust me, it’s delicious.”

Alex took a bite. It was divine. He nearly had to bite back a moan. “Holy fuck. How are you such a good cook?”

Jefferson shrugged. “Practice, I guess. I think I'd be better if I had someone to cook for.” 

_That's quite an odd thing to say at dinner_ , Alex thought, but didn't comment on it. Instead he raised and eyebrow and asked, “No girlfriend?”

“You see anyone else here?” Jefferson responded with a dry laugh.

“I guess not,” Alex murmured. He took another bite of food. “Fuck. This is so good. I’m starving.” 

“Did you eat lunch?” Jefferson asked, his voice edged with concern.

Alex thought for a minute, replayed the day in his head… “No.”

Jefferson knit his brows. “Why not?”

_Why do you care so much?_ Alex wanted to ask. Instead, he merely shrugged. “I dunno. Forgot.”

“You need to eat, Alexander,” Jefferson said. There it was again, his first name, said so casually as if it had just slipped out without a second thought. Why did he keep doing that?

Alex swallowed. The air had become suddenly tense. “I… okay.”

“I’m serious. Skipping meals is bad for you. Especially since you don't seem to sleep much, either.” Maybe it was Alex's imagination, but he could've sworn there was a hint of condescending disapproval in Jefferson’s voice, as if he was reprimanding a child.

“Okay. Okay. I’ll try to be better about that. Happy, Mom?” Alex couldn't resist throwing a little sass into his response. 

Jefferson seemed satisfied. “Good. Now remember to eat your vegetables to grow up big and strong.” His voice was dripping in sarcasm, and Alex couldn't help but snort. 

“There aren't even any vegetables on the plate. You’d be a terrible mother.”

“The sauce is red. It's tomatoes. It counts." 

“Tomatoes are a fruit, dumbass.”

“Don't backtalk your mother, young man.”

The dinner continued smoothly, playful banter and small talk coming with ease. It was nearing midnight by the time they finished. Alex had offered to help wash the dishes, to which Jefferson had insisted he didn't, it was no trouble really, he could do them just fine by himself. (Alex ended up helping anyways.) 

They ascended the stairs together in a comfortable silence, and when Jefferson said “Goodnight, Alexander,” Alex barely even thought about it before replying “Goodnight, Thomas.”

They parted ways, each going to their respective rooms.

Alex’s legs carried him to the bed in a bit of a daze. With Jefferson gone, his head was miraculously clearing. He kept thinking about the dinner, the _dinner…_ this whole situation just kept getting more confusing.

With a frustrated sigh, he shut his eyes, trying to find sleep. It did not come, though, not soon anyways. Alex’s mind was on high gear, replaying everything over and over and over again as he tried to figure out what the _hell_ just happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haven't fully decided on an updating schedule yet, though i'm pretty sure it's going to have updates twice a week. 
> 
> also, i still don't have a beta for this!!! if you'd like to help me out a bunch and beta this, please hmu on my [tumblr!!!](http://www.roseclipping.tumblr.com) id really appreciate it.
> 
> comments and kudos are much appreciated, thanks for reading!


	3. the napkin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which alex is in denial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is short and kind of a filler BUT i promise actual plot is coming next chapter. it was originally gonna be in this chapter but then it ended up getting too long and i decided to just separate it into two chapters. that being said, enjoy ~

Friday began pretty uneventfully. Alex woke up at 5, Jefferson at 7. They had a quick breakfast, Jefferson left for work and Alex left for class. Few words were exchanged. Everything was going smoothly until a little after noon, when Alex’s phone lit up with a notification as he was packing his books up. A text message.

 

**_jefferson:_ ** _ remember to eat lunch today _

 

Alex blinked. Since when did Jefferson text him things like that? Reminding him to  _ eat lunch? _ It felt way too domestic to be considered normal, and him and Alex weren’t  _ like that. _ The dinner last night had been– well, Alex had to admit it sure did seem like… something, but it was just Jefferson thanking him for cleaning his house. Alex had come to that definitive conclusion last night; it was nothing more than Jefferson evening the score. 

 

And now this text. Jefferson reminding him to eat– which, Alex realized, he had forgotten until that point– meant… what, exactly? 

 

_ Perhaps he’s just trying to be thoughtful. Nothing odd about that, _ his internal voice said. After all, Alex had told him he rarely eats lunch last night, Jefferson was surely just one man looking out for a fellow, less-than-capable-of-taking-care-of-himself man. Yes, that made sense. Alex was just overthinking it, as always. 

 

Still, it didn’t seem… right. But Alex just shook his head and forced himself to accept the explanation. 

 

He finished gathering his things and headed to lunch.

 

–––

 

His destination of choice was a quaint little coffee shop, one in which he visited quite often. It was nice. The prices were cheap, the food was good, and there were numerous tables and slouchy little armchairs, perfectly designed to curl up in and study. 

 

Alex went to the counter and ordered a coffee and a cranberry scone, then settled in on one of the armchairs and pulled his phone out. 

 

His thoughts strayed to John. A pang of guilt shook him; he hadn’t contacted John  _ or _ Herc since barging out that night. They were probably worried sick.

 

_ Then again, _ a little voice in the back of his head said,  _ they didn’t try to contact you, either.  _

 

Alex huffed. It was a blessing and a curse, he decided, to be so damn  _ right _ all the time. But he was right, they hadn’t tried to call him. And he was an adult, goddamnit. He could look after himself. If they were worried about him, so be it.

 

His food was brought to him by a cute waiter, effectively shaking him from his thoughts. 

 

“Here’s your food,” the waiter said, smiling as he set it down on the table in front of Alex. “Cranberry scone. Good choice. Those are my favorite.”

 

“Really,” Alex said, feeling his face flushing the slightest bit pink. “Mine too.”

 

The waiter nodded and smiled again. “So, uh, you a student?” 

 

Alex nodded. “Grad student. Law school. This is my second year.”

 

“Law school! That’s great. I love lawyers.” The waiter’s nodding and smiling was much too enthusiastic to be polite conversation, Alex was very aware. He was cute, though, all blond hair and blue eyes and dimples, so Alex went along with it.

 

He flashed a quick smile. “Don’t you have, like, work?” 

 

The waiter blinked, “Oh, shit. You’re right. Damn it. Well, uh, I better go, but it was nice talking to you…” he trailed off, looking at Alex expectantly. 

 

“Alexander.” He had to suppress a grin at how hard the waiter was trying. It was cute. Endearing, even.

 

The waiter grinned, his eyes alight. “Nice talking to you, Alexander. I’m Jay, by the way.”

 

Alex nodded. “Nice to meet you, Jay.” 

 

Jay flashed another flirty smile before turning back and running to the the counter. Alex watched in amusement as he was reprimanded by an angry-looking lady– his manager, presumably. 

 

He finished up his coffee and scone and was about to leave the building before a voice behind him stopped him. 

 

“Alexander!”

 

Alex turned. It was Jay, clutching a napkin and waving at Alex frantically. 

 

“I, uh… I think you left this,” Jay said, blushing profusely and holding out the napkin to Alex.

 

_ I most certainly did not leave that, _ he thought, but took it anyways. Jay’s intentions became clear, however, when Alex turned it over and saw a note written in loopy black ink.

 

_ call me? -jay _

 

A phone number was scribbled underneath. Alex chuckled lightly and looked back up, only to see that Jay was hurrying back to the counter. How… cute. 

 

With a little chuckle, Alex pocketed the napkin and left.

 

–––

 

“Dinner’s in like, two minutes. Do me a favor and pull up Netflix.”

 

Alex glanced at Jefferson, who was currently busying himself in the kitchen. “Netflix?”

 

Jefferson nodded. “I wanna watch Project Runway.”

 

Alex bit back a snort. He never would’ve pegged Jefferson as a Project Runway type of person. It was mostly pretentious asses and ridiculous fashion, though, so he supposed the shoe fit.

 

He fiddled with the remote for a minute and cued up the show. Jefferson brought out food a little later, two plates of some sort of rice dish that Alex didn’t recognize and– of course– a bottle of wine and two glasses, all set atop of a neat little tray. He carefully set the tray down and put both plates on the coffee table, then filled the two glasses and pushed one to Alex. 

 

“Do you have any beverage in your house  _ other _ than red wine?” Alex drawled, but accepted the glass nonetheless.

 

Jefferson rolled his eyes. “Shut up and put my show on.”

 

If he was being honest, Alex failed to see the appeal to Project Runway, but Jefferson seemed to be so into it– kept making little comments and asking for Alex’s opinion on the various dresses– and he couldn’t help but feign interest in the show. It was fascinating, watching Jefferson’s eyes light up with an almost childlike enthusiasm, and around halfway through the second episode Alex found himself watching Jefferson more than the show itself. 

 

His thoughts shifted back to their college days. This was not, Alex decided, the same Jefferson as before, the arrogant, pretentious douchebag with an ego the size of a blimp whom he had hated with a passion like no other. He had changed, and Alex was beginning to see him in a new light, one untouched by a distorting hatred.

  
“I’m gonna go shower,” Jefferson said suddenly. Alex looked at the TV and realized he had been zoning out for a while; the episode was over. He stood up from the couch and stretched, his shirt rising a little as he reached up, revealing a few inches of torso. Alex didn’t  _ try _ to look, but the angle was just so that he caught a  _ very  _ good view of his V-line and the bottom of a smooth, well-toned stomach.

 

_ He must work out, _ Alex thought dumbly. 

 

His eyes followed Jefferson as the taller man made his way upstairs. Alex fidgeted in his seat, then after a minute or two ran upstairs as well. Perhaps a little writing could clear his mind. 

 

Alex settled on his bed with his laptop and busied himself with proofreading a paper he had written earlier in the week. It was not long, though, before he became restless once again.  _ Water, _ he thought.  _ I need something to drink. _ He rolled off the bed and left his room.

 

As luck would have it, the door directly across from his opened at almost the exact same time– the bathroom. From it emerged Jefferson, fresh out of the shower, and oh  _ fuck _ , he was wearing nothing but a fluffy white towel wrapped around his hips and Alex got a complete view of every single one of his toned abs; glistening, dark skin stretched tight over seemingly perfect muscles–

 

“Oh, hey.” Jefferson sounded so  _ casual, _ and Alex flushed at the realization that he must look like an idiot, standing frozen and wide-eyed and  _ way _ too close to the other man– seriously, why was the hallway so narrow– so he forced his eyes to meet Jefferson’s and gulped. 

 

“Uh. Hi.” Alex mentally cursed himself for sounding so dumb, but what else was he supposed to say? Jefferson was just  _ standing there,  _ right there, and the towel was sliding ever so slightly down his hips and– 

 

“I’m thirsty,” Alex blurted, and honestly could’ve died right there because  _ why _ did he have to phrase it like that, “So. I’m just gonna, you know. Get some water.” He shuffled away and ran as fast as possible to the kitchen, trying very hard  _ not _ to think about what just happened. 

 

–––

 

Alex spent most of Saturday holed up in his room studying, trying to keep his mind off of whatever it was that happened in the hallway the night before. It worked, mostly, and he was able to work in peace. Jefferson didn’t question his motives or interrupt him– except at mealtimes, where he texted Alex ‘come downstairs for food’ or something similar. 

 

Sunday was a different story. At eight o'clock precisely Alex’s door swung open and Jefferson was suddenly at the foot of the bed. 

 

“Get dressed. We’re going out,” he stated. 

 

Alex blinked. “Out?”

 

“You barely left your room at all yesterday. It’s nice out, and I don’t want to cook, so we’re gonna go get breakfast somewhere. Come on.”    
  


“Oh, no thanks, I really don’t–” Alex tried to protest, but Jefferson cut him off. 

 

“Not a question. Get up.” Jefferson’s tone left no room for debate so Alex, still in a state of confusion, put down his laptop and shuffled over to his duffle bag. He rummaged around for some clothes and managed to pull out underwear, jeans, and…  _ shit. _

 

“Shit.” Alex said. Did he really only pack like, three shirts? “I don’t have any more clean shirts.”

 

Jefferson paused. “Hold on. I’ll get you something.” He turned on his heel and left the room, returning a minute later with a bundle of fabric in his arms. 

 

He tossed the shirt at Alex, who held it up to inspect it. It was a dark green sweater, made of some incredibly soft material. “It’s too small on me. Might fit you,” Jefferson said, and backed out of the room again to give Alex privacy.

 

Alex changed into his jeans and pulled the sweater over his head, trying not to think too hard about the fact that he was wearing Jefferson’s fucking  _ sweater _ . He nearly moaned because of how  _ soft _ it was. It was way too big on him, too– the sleeves went a solid two inches past his fingertips and the hem was somewhere around the middle of his thighs. He felt kind of ridiculous; but it was comfortable as hell and it was better than nothing, at least. 

 

He ran a brush through his hair and went downstairs. Jefferson immediately burst into laughter at the sight of him, causing Alex to turn comically red. 

 

“Shut up. You made me wear it,” he muttered, tugging at the sleeve. 

 

“Yeah, I  _ know,  _ I just didn't realize it would be so  _ big  _ on you. Jesus Christ– you’re  _ tiny!”  _ Jefferson exclaimed through teary laughter. 

 

Alex felt his face burning. “I hate you.”

 

Jefferson smirked. “Aww. I’m sorry. It's  _ cute _ .” Then, as if things couldn't get any worse, the fucker had the  _ audacity  _ to reach over and pinch Alex’s cheek–  _ pinch his cheek! _ Like some sort of  _ child.  _

 

“I’m going to kill you. Mark my words, Jefferson.” 

 

“I'd like to see you try. Now come on, I'm hungry.”

 

–––

 

They found themselves at a little breakfast cafe uptown. It was nice; the food was good, the servers were friendly, and cheery Christmas music played in the background. 

 

“I can't believe it's almost Christmas,” Alex mused. 

 

Jefferson nodded in agreement. “You doing anything special for it this year?” 

 

Alex shook his head. “I never go anywhere for Christmas. You?” 

 

“Sometimes I go back to Virginia, sometimes I stay here. Depends on work. I’m probably staying in the city this year, though. But we’ll see.” 

 

_ Please stay,  _ Alex thought before he could catch himself. He blinked. Since when was he thinking… fuck.  _ Fuck.  _ He wasn't supposed to be thinking those kinds of things. Jefferson wasn't– he didn't– shit, shit,  _ shit– _

 

“You okay?” Jefferson asked, concerned. Alex gulped. 

 

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, “I have a headache. That's all.” 

 

“We can go home, if you want?” Jefferson said. 

 

Alex nodded quickly. He fixed his gaze on the cloudy sky outside for the rest of the time while Jefferson paid the check, and remained stoic and silent on the drive home. 

 

He practically bolted upstairs to his room the minute they got inside, ignoring Jefferson’s protests behind him. He fell rather ungracefully on the bed with a massive sigh.

 

This was fine. Everything was good, everything was fine. Nothing is happening between him and Jefferson, Jefferson is just being a nice person and Alex has been overthinking everything and he just needed to clear his head. He was most certainly  _ not  _ catching feelings for Thomas  _ fucking  _ Jefferson. 

 

His gaze wandered around the room, searching for some sort of answer, until they landed on the bedside table. The bedside table, where a certain napkin he had all but forgotten about lay innocently next to his glasses. 

 

He sat up and grabbed the napkin, studying the numbers scribbled on the back. He hadn't been  _ that _ interested in Jay when they met in that coffee shop, but he was cute and seemed sweet and honestly, what was there to lose? Besides, this could be just what he needed to get his mind off of Jefferson. 

 

Alex pulled his phone out and dialed the number before him. The phone rang once, twice, three times before he got an answer. 

 

“Hello, is this Jay? From the coffee shop? This is Alex, I was wondering if you wanted to get dinner sometime?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ive decided updates for this are gonna be on sundays and thursdays, so yay :)) also, i have an idea for a oneshot series in which thomas is a witch and itd be hella cute and hella magic and hella fluffy, would anyone be interested in that? if so, should i start posting now or wait until this story is over (im thinking this is going to be around 10 chapters) pls help a girl out and let me know what you think xx
> 
> hmu on my [tumblr](http://www.roseclipping.tumblr.com) and talk to me about this fic/jamilton in general/anything at all, id love to hear from you ~
> 
> comments and kudos make me smile, thank you for reading <3


	4. the date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which alex has a revelation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for not updating thursday! something came up and i wasn't able to write. its all good now, and i should be back on schedule.
> 
> anyways, enjoy 3.5k of alex being a dumbass~

The conversation with Jay was short, sweet, and to the point. Jay was positively delighted that Alex called; Alex found his excitement endearing, if not overbearing. They settled on dinner Monday night at a restaurant that was thankfully in Alex’s price range, but nice enough to be suitable for a date. Perfect.

Alex found a few minutes of blissful peace before a timid knock interrupted the silence. He didn’t get a chance to respond before the handle was turning and the door was creaking open– Alex was annoyed at the intrusion for a fleeting second before realizing that this _was_ Jefferson’s house; he wasn’t even obligated to knock in the first place. 

“Alex?” Jefferson stepped inside, looking wary and clutching a white coffee mug. “Uh. Just wanted to see if you were okay,” he said. He held up the mug. “I brought you some tea. For your headache.” He looked at Alex expectantly, but made no move to approach the bed.

Alex wanted to scream. He had just finished making plans to rid himself of any nonexistent _feelings_ he was deluding himself into thinking he might have towards Jefferson, when the asshole just _had_ to go and pull something _nice_ like this. He came to check on Alex. And brought him _tea._ What an _asshole._

“I’m fine, thank you,” Alex mumbled, not meeting Jefferson’s eye. He could see Jefferson falter in his peripheral vision. 

“It’s mint,” Jefferson tried again, hopeful. 

“I don’t like mint.” That was a lie, Alex mentioned that mint tea was his favorite during that first dinner. The fact that Jefferson _remembered_ made Alex’s head hurt all over again.

“I– but you… okay,” Jefferson stuttered, sounding hurt. A pang of guilt hit Alex square in the chest. He shut his eyes in frustration and heard Jefferson shuffle back out of the room. 

_Shit._ He hadn’t meant to come across so cold, but he really did _not_ want to face Jefferson. Not right now.

He occupied himself with studying for the time being, pouring over pages and pages of textbooks and Word documents and writing until his fingers grew sore and stiff. The hours blurred and melted away, time speeding up until he eventually tore his eyes away from the screen to notice the sun was setting.

Alex rubbed his eyes and glanced at the clock. It was nearly six. _You missed lunch_ , a little voice in the back of his head chided. Jefferson would surely reprimand him for that. 

_Jefferson._

A little groan escaped Alex. Seven hours of non-stop work had done wonders to steer his mind away from Jefferson, but that slice of bliss seemed to have been temporary and, frustratingly enough, Jefferson was rocketed to the forefront of Alex’s thoughts. 

A nagging guilt bit at his conscience. _You need to apologize to him._ After all, he _had_ been kind of a dick. But at the same time, he didn't want to have to face Jefferson and actually _talk_ about things, it was so much easier to just hide away in his room–

Alex suddenly remembered what Jefferson said that first night, about how he kept ‘running,’ or whatever. He had dismissed the notion at the time, thought it to be ridiculous and all kinds of wrong. Only now was he realizing that ‘running’ was _exactly what he was doing now._ Jefferson was completely right.

That couldn't stand.

He rolled off the bed with a resigned sigh and made his way downstairs. Jefferson was stretched out on the couch, phone in hand. 

“Alexander?” he asked, upon noticing Alex’s presence.

“Jefferson. Hey.” Alex gulped. “Look, I just wanted to apologize for earlier. I was being a dick. Sorry about that.”

The taller man huffed. “It's okay. You had a headache. I understand.” His focus went back to his phone, and Alex could tell he wasn't fully sold.

So he tried again. “Are you gonna make dinner?”

Jefferson perked up at that one. “Do you want me to make dinner?”

Alex nodded quickly. “Hell yes. I mean, if you want to. I’m starving.”

Jefferson grinned and sat up. “I can do that. I can definitely do that.” He stood up, now fully energized. “Stay here. Don’t come to the kitchen until I tell you to.” With that, he all but raced to the kitchen.

That was one of Jefferson’s odder quirks Alex had discovered; he never let Alex set foot in the kitchen while he was cooking. When Alex inquired about it, Jefferson just brushed it off with a vague “So it’s a surprise” and said no further.

Which meant, once again, Alex was left alone. He had no idea how long dinner would take, so he contented himself with watching Friends until Jefferson called him into the kitchen. 

As usual, the table was elegantly set, two plates of food on either side of the table and another candle in the middle. Alex sank into his seat and studied the plate in front of him– it looked delicious.

“It’s curry,” Jefferson said, before Alex could ask.

Alex took a bite. “It’s delicious.”

Jefferson smiled, and Alex’s stomach flipped over. Because of the curry, of course. It was so good. 

The rest of the dinner passed, and whatever air of tension had been between them before had dissipated, leaving something warm and comfortable in its place. 

“I’m glad you called me, Alex,” Jefferson said, once dinner was over and the dishes were put away and they found themselves on either end of the couch, sharing some of Jefferson’s expensive French wine as they had done so nearly every night before. It had turned into something of a habit; this nightcap on the couch after dinner. Though it had only been a handful of days, it was becoming almost ritualistic.

“Called you?” Alex’s voice was soft, as to not disrupt whatever strange force had seemingly settled in the room.

“That night. When you needed to stay somewhere,” Jefferson clarified. “I’m glad you called me. It’s been… nice.”

Alex chuckled. “Not like I had any other options. I have like, no friends.”

Jefferson raised an eyebrow. “That’s not true. You have Laurens and Mulligan. And Laf. And the Schuylers.”

“Yeah, but I couldn’t stay with any of them. And still, that’s five. Not a lot.”

Jefferson shrugged and twirled the stem of his wine glass between his fingers. “More than me.”

That was a little surprising. “I would’ve taken you for one of those annoying socialites with like, a million friends.” 

He was met with a beat of silence. Jefferson shrugged again. “I have James.” 

_James Madison,_ Alex’s brain supplied. The two were close in college, he remembered. “And?” he pressed.

“That’s it.”

Alex paused. “That’s not true. You have me.” They were friends by this point, right? They had to be. 

Thomas’ eyes flitted up to met Alex’s own, and a small smile ebbed its way onto his face. “I do.” 

–––

Monday came, and Thomas was oddly cheery in the morning. Alex, not being a morning person in the slightest, found this to be less endearing than irritating.

“Nobody should be this peppy on a Monday,” Alex grumbled, as he watched Thomas hum along to an unfamiliar tune while spreading cream cheese on a bagel. 

Thomas stuck his tongue out. “Way to be a buzzkill. Maybe I’m just happy to be alive. Where’s your spirit, Alexander?”

“My spirit doesn’t wake up until my third coffee, so please fuck off,” Alex retorted, earning only a wink and a smirk from the taller man. 

Thomas’ bright spirit must’ve been infectious, though, because as Thomas practically sashayed out the door, Alex was left feeling something warm and fuzzy, deep in his chest.

It wasn’t until lunch– which Alex had gotten back into the habit of eating, thanks to Thomas– that he suddenly remembered about his date tonight. Alex shot a quick text to Jay, confirming the time and place. Luckily, Alex’s last class of the day ended at four, which gave him enough time to go home and get ready. 

Alex’s pulse was buzzing as he fiddled with his hair in vain, trying to figure out the best way to style it to where it didn’t look like something crawled onto his head and died. After a solid 20 minutes of wrangling with a brush he was able to pull it back into a soft, twisted bun that looked somewhat decent. He ran a hand down his shirt, as if to smooth out any nonexistent wrinkles and checked his phone. 5:32. Shit. He was dressed and ready to go, but time seemed to be the enemy as there was still a full half hour before he had to leave.

With a resigned huff, Alex sank into the increasingly familiar spot on the couch and opened his laptop. Never a bad time to study. 

The front door swung open at 6 o’clock sharp and Thomas came bursting in, two large grocery bags in his arms.

“Alex! Give me a hand here?” Thomas called. Alex blinked, but rose and strode over to help him.

“What’s all this?” Alex asked, taking one of the bags from Thomas’ arms and setting it on the counter.

“Some stuff for dinner. Whoa, your hair looks good,” Thomas said, reaching up and brushing a bit of hair that had fallen in Alex’s face behind his ear. “Did you do it?” 

Alex’s throat tightened. “Yeah.”

Thomas smiled. “It’s nice. I like it.” He cleared his throat. “So, I got off work early so I could stop by the store to pick up some stuff for dinner–”

“Thomas–” Alex tried to interrupt weakly, but Thomas rolled on.

“–I didn’t know whether you liked salmon or chicken better, so I got both–”

“Thomas, stop–”

“–and I got some stuff for dessert, too, I know this _really_ good recipe for raspberry sorbet–”

“Thomas!” Alex half-yelled, putting a hand on Thomas’ arm to silence him. Thomas quieted, looked at Alex expectantly.

Alex felt his face flush. “I, uh–” Damn it, this was awkward. “I’m actually… going out tonight." 

Thomas faltered. “What?”

“On a date. I’m going on a date tonight.” His face was bright red, he was sure of it, and he found it increasingly harder to look Thomas in the eye.

“A date?” Thomas echoed softly.

Alex nodded. “A date. At 6:30, actually, so I kind of have to leave soon…”

Thomas’ eyes widened. “Oh! Uhm. Okay.” He stepped away from Alex– _how had he not noticed how close Thomas was standing?_ “Sorry, I just– I thought–”

“Is that okay?” Alex pressed _. What the hell was happening?_  

The air was stifling. “Yeah! Yeah, of course,” Thomas said, sounding a little too forced. He rubbed the back of his neck. “You should, ah. Get going then. Don’t want to be late.”

Alex gulped and nodded. “Yeah. I should go.” He backed away slowly and made his way to the door. “Uhm. I’ll see you when I get back.”

Thomas gave a short nod. “Have fun,” he said, in an odd voiced, short and clipped and much too formal. 

With one final sigh, Alex opened the door and left. 

––– 

Jay was already at the table by the time Alex arrived. When he saw Alex, his face broke into a huge grin and he beckoned him over. 

“Alexander!” he exclaimed as Alex slid into his seat. “How are you?”

What a question. Alex shrugged in response. “I’m okay.”

“Long day?” Jay pressed, his voice sweet and sympathetic.

Sure. He’ll go with that. “Yeah.”

If Jay was at all bothered by Alex’s less-than-stellar conversational skills, he didn’t show it. Instead, he sat with a pleasant smile and did most of the talking, telling Alex about this and that, what happened at the coffee shop today and other bits of small talk and tidbits of chatter that Alex idly nodded and hummed at. 

The waiter came by eventually and took their orders.

“Pasta puttanesca, please,” Jay said, and Alex felt a pang in his chest as he was reminded of his and Thomas’ first dinner together, Thomas had made puttanesca and set a little red candle out and worn that black button up and it was _delicious_ and–

“And you, sir?” Alex was shaken from his thoughts by the waiter, now staring down at him expectantly.

“I– I’ll have a Caesar salad, thank you,” he choked out, and handed his menu to the waiter.

“That’s all you’re getting?” Jay asked.

Alex nodded. “I don’t eat much.”

The rest of the dinner dragged on, and Alex found it increasingly harder to focus on whatever Jay was saying. The hours ticked by, and suddenly Jay was handing the waiter his credit card and saying things like, “thank you, sir, and “my compliments to the chef” and other little niceties.

“I’m always polite to waiters,” Jay mused. “I know their pain.” 

Alex made a little ‘hah’ sound, and checked his phone for the time. It was nearly 9:30– shit, they had been here for a while.

Jay seemed to agree. “Hey, so I was thinking,” he said, dropping his voice and leaning in to Alex, “maybe we could go back to my place?” A suggestive grin crept its way onto his face. 

_On the first date? Really?_ Alex thought. That was… forward. Still, maybe this was what Alex needed. To… clear his head.

“Yeah, sure. That sounds great,” he said. Jay broke into another dimpled grin. Alex did his best to reciprocate it.

The waiter was back with Jay’s card. Jay thanked him and wished him a good night before getting up and practically tripping over himself in his haste to rush to the door and hold it open for Alex. The display was cute, if not a little overbearing– a sentiment in which Alex was using more and more to describe Jay.

The drive to Jay’s apartment building was a relatively short one. Jay wasted no time in rushing to the other side of the car to hold the door open for Alex again, and once he was out immediately linked their hands, threading his fingers through Alex’s own. Alex stiffened slightly– he’d never been a big fan of PDA– but said nothing and even let Jay swing their arms a little as they walked.

Jay’s politeness and chivalry led Alex to believe that he wouldn’t jump into anything right away; perhaps he’d open a bottle of wine first, or put on a movie, or something. That was, as it turned out, a false assumption. He opened the door to his apartment, and with a thin-lipped smile led Alex over to the couch and fell back onto it, pulling Alex down with him and connecting their lips in a kiss.

Alex made a slight noise of surprise at the forwardness of it, but settled in and rolled with it. Jay was a good kisser, which was fortunate seeing as most of Alex’s focus was on keeping thoughts of a certain _someone_ out of his head, and therefore didn’t do much of the work.

They stayed like that for a while, just kissing, and everything was fine and good until Jay’s fingers were at Alex’s jeans and fumbling with the buttons and it was all suddenly too much.

Alex pulled back abruptly and pushed Jay’s hand away. 

“Fuck– I’m sorry, Jay, I can’t,” he muttered, sitting back.

Jay furrowed his brow. “Did I do something wrong?”

Alex shook his head quickly. “No, no, it’s not you. I just…” he trailed off, rubbed his face in his hands. “Look. You’re a great guy, you really are. I thought I wanted this, but I don’t. I’m sorry.”

A look of hurt flashed over Jay’s face, but was replaced by one of resignation, and then understanding. “I guessed,” he sighed. “I could tell at dinner you weren’t feeling it. I thought maybe bringing you back here could change your mind, but… some things aren’t meant to be, I suppose.”

Alex breathed a sigh of relief. “Yeah. Thank you for not like, blowing up on me or anything. I’m really sorry this didn’t work. Fuck, I feel like an ass.”

“It’s not your fault, it just wasn’t working,” Jay said. He was smiling again, but there was a quaver in his voice this time that made Alex’s heart hurt.

“It was fun, though,” Alex said halfheartedly. When he got no response from Jay, he took that as his cue to leave. “I’ll show myself out.” 

Jay nodded. “You should do that.”

And just like that, Alex was out on the street once again. 

It was nearly 11 by the time he got back to Thomas’ house. He opened the door quietly, unsure as to whether Thomas would be asleep or not.

He wasn’t. Instead, Thomas was sitting back on the couch, his feet on the coffee table and a bottle of wine in his hand.

“Oh. You’re here,” he said hollowly when Alex approached. As Alex got closer, he noticed Thomas’ eyes were red and glassy. 

“Are you okay?” Alex asked, immediately concerned. _Had Thomas been crying?_

“Fucking fantastic,” Thomas said bitterly, and took another swig from the bottle.

Alex grabbed the bottle from his hands and set it on the table, ignoring Thomas’ indignant “hey!” in protest. He settled on the couch next to him.

“Seriously, what’s wrong?” Alex pressed.

Thomas rolled his eyes. “Like you don’t know.”

Now Alex was _really_ confused. “What? What are you talking about?”

A noise of disbelief escaped the other man. “You.” 

“Me? Did I do something?” Alex was growing frustrated.

Thomas rolled his eyes. “You. You come to my house out of nowhere, you let me make you dinner, you _clean my fucking house_ , I’m thinking ‘hey, I have a chance,’ then you pull that _shit_ you did last night saying ‘you have me, Thomas, you have me,’ and I’m thinking this is _definitely_ going somewhere, and then all of a sudden you tell me you’re going on a fucking _date_ like it’s _nothing._ Fuck off.” He ended his sudden word vomit by leaning forward to grab the wine bottle again and took a resolute gulp.

Alex’s ears were ringing. “What do you– Thomas, do you… like me?” His voice sounded distant, like someone speaking far away and his mouth was just moving to the words.

“Do I _like_ you?” Thomas repeated incredulously. “Of _course_ I _like_ you! Since _college,_ dumbass!” His tone was one of spitting contempt, which was highly contrasting to the nature of the words themselves.  

The irony of that, of course, was lost on Alex, who instead was trying to process the sudden confession. “I– college? What? We _hated_ each other in college, Thomas–”

“No, _you_ hated _me_ ,” Thomas cut him off. “I went along with it, because I figured arguing with you was the only way to keep you around. Looking back, I _should’ve_ just ignored you altogether, that way I wouldn’t end up here, drunk and crying on my couch like a fucking _moron._ ” 

Alex’s head was spinning. This had to be a dream. “I had no idea,” he said softly, so softly he could barely hear it over the pounding in his head.

Thomas scoffed. “Oh, don’t give me that. I made you _dinner._ With _candles_. Helen fucking Keller could’ve seen it from a mile away.”

Alex was quiet. What could he say? His throat didn’t seem to be working anyways. So he did the only thing he could think of– grab Thomas’ face and crash their lips together.

The kiss was bliss, it was passion, it felt so _right–_ and then it was gone. Thomas jerked away and stared at Alex in disbelief, a wide-eyed shocked expression immediately turning into one of rage.

“What the _fuck,_ Alex,” he spat. Alex blinked. Now he was _angry?_

“I feel the same way, Thomas, I–” he started but was cut off once again.

“No. Don’t you _dare_ say that. I’m not a fucking charity case, Alexander. You can’t just magically kiss it better and pretend everything’s fine and dandy. Fucker.”

Alex sputtered. “I don’t understand…”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “Of course you don’t,” he muttered and stood up abruptly. “You need to leave.”

Alex was sure he misheard. _“What?”_

Thomas stared him down, his jaw set. “You heard me. Get out. Go back to your stoner friend, I don’t care.”

Now it was Alex’s turn to be annoyed. “Are you kidding me? I’m not _leaving_ , we need to talk about this–”

“No, _we_ don’t need to do anything. _You_ need to get the hell out of my house.”

Alex crossed his arms and puffed out his chest. “No.”

Thomas’ eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”

“I’m not leaving. Not until we talk about… whatever just happened.”

Thomas opened his mouth, then closed it, staring at Alex with such scrutiny it made the younger man almost uncomfortable. “You’re impossible." 

Alex nodded. “I am indeed. I’m also not leaving.” 

A minute passed of silence, neither of them backing down. Then, finally, Thomas’ shoulders sagged in bitter resignation.

“Fine. _Fine,”_ he muttered. “Stay in my house. Fucking move in with me, see if I care. I’m going to bed.” He moved to leave.  

“No, wait–” Alex grabbed Thomas’ wrist and to turn him around. 

Thomas yanked himself from Alex’s grip. “No. I’m going to bed. You should too. Or don’t. I don’t care.” He turned on heel again and trudged up the stairs. This time, Alex didn’t stop him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: when i started this story, thomas originally had a cat. it was a one-eyed sphynx cat named matilda, and she was beautiful.
> 
> hmu on my [tumblr](http://www.roseclipping.tumblr.com) and we'll have a good time xx
> 
> pls leave a comment/kudos, it makes my day!! thanks for reading lovelies <3


	5. the call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which alex gets advice from an old friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is a little short, sorry. it's show week, so i havent had much time to write. nevertheless, hope you enjoy! 
> 
> also! shoutout to Alois_Marc for betaing x

Alexander woke a little after seven– a surprising occurrence, seeing as it was rare for the man to sleep even past six. Perhaps the fact that he had fallen asleep both physically and emotionally exhausted had something to do with it.

Though he was considerably well-rested and rejuvenated, he certainly was not _happy_ about this. Especially considering the previous night’s fiasco– he needed all the time he could get to try and set things right with Thomas.

So of course, when he came downstairs only to discover Thomas had already left, he felt dangerously close to tearing his hair out.

  
There was a little piece of paper on the counter, a note scrawled on it in delicate, slanted writing.

_left for work early. didn’t want to wake you. breakfast is in the fridge._   
_–T_

Alex sighed in a combination of disappointment and frustration, but opened the fridge anyway. A plate of eggs, cooked over easy, sat on one of the shelves, with a sticky note reading ‘Alex’ stuck to the rim. Despite his somber mood, he couldn’t help but laugh a little at Thomas’ need to label it, as if someone else in the house might steal it.

Breakfast alone was an odd experience. He’d gotten used to Thomas being there in the morning, chattering lightly about the dream he had last night, that the quiet was something foreign, unknown. It was deafening. The house was moderately spacious, but with Thomas gone it seemed almost obscenely large, a sort of intimidating expanse that seemed unsuited for just one person to inhabit. He wondered how Thomas managed all this time, living here by himself.

He floated through his classes in a daze, barely focused and his mind somewhere else. People kept asking him if he was okay, and he wanted to scream, wanted to punch someone, wanted _something_ but he was too lost in his head to respond with anything more than “it’s been a rough day.”

Unfortunately, he found no relief in coming home to an empty house.

Alex trudged up the stairs to his room and immediately buried his face into one of the stupidly soft pillows, groaning loudly in frustration. Now that he wasn’t repressing his feelings for Thomas he was painfully aware of how _intense_ said feelings were, and the fact that he knew Thomas reciprocated them, yet for some reason refused to act on them now, made it even worse. The problem is, he had no idea how to fix it. He hadn’t even realized his mistake until it was too late, and then when he kissed Thomas everything went to _shit_. So now what was he supposed to do? He knew jack shit about love, and romance, and fucking _feelings_.

An idea sparked in his head and he sat up abruptly. Maybe he didn’t have a clue when it came to romance, but he certainly knew someone who did.

His computer was on his lap with Skype pulled up in a matter of seconds.

Thirty agonizing seconds passed before the call picked up. It took a minute for the video to load, but soon enough he was faced with the most sappy, cavity-inducing, hopeless romantic he knew.

“Alexander!” Lafayette’s face broke out into a smile upon seeing him. “Long time, no see! How are you, mon cher?”

Alex grinned. “I’m great, Gil. Nice to see you again. France treating you well?”

“It is beautiful as always, my friend. You must come visit soon. And John and Hercules? Are they well?”

Alex sighed. “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.” Well, not _exactly_ , but it was a good place to start.

Laf’s grin faltered. “Is something wrong?”

Here goes. Alex took a breath and let the words fall out. “So, me and John have been fighting a lot since you left, and I don’t know why. Then on Wednesday we had this big argument and long story short, I kind of walked out on them and I’ve been staying at a… friends house. And I haven’t heard from them since. And I don’t know what to do.”

The frenchman looked thoughtful, a little sympathetic. “It seems you do not do well to live together. Perhaps you should look into renting an apartment of your own, yes? I would hate to come back to the states only to see my two closest companions at each other’s necks.”

“Throats,” Alex corrected. “It’s ‘at each other’s throats.’”

Laf waved his hand dismissively. “Same thing. My point is, you and John both have… _fiery_ personalities, and perhaps two flames under the same roof is ah, unsafe. So find a new roommate, or rent out your own place until I return, and then I will be happy to live with you once again.”

Alex nodded hesitantly. He decided against bringing up the fact that he _had no money_ , because what advice could Laf offer him to solve that one? Besides, the whole John issue wasn't his biggest issue at the moment. Now, how to bring _that_ up…

His problem was solved for him. “Who are you staying with, might I ask?” Laf inquired. “You said you are with a friend, no?”

“Yeah,” Alex said hollowly, “that's another thing I wanted to talk to you about. I’m gonna tell you everything, all at once, and you aren't allowed to interrupt me until I’m done, okay?”

Lafayette nodded, started at Alex expectantly.

He took a breath. “For reasons I won’t go into for sake of time, I’m staying with Thomas. As in, Thomas Jefferson. And ever since I got here he’s been really nice and not a complete ass like he was in college and fuck, it’s not even been a week yet but I have feelings for him. Like, a lot. Problem is, I didn’t fully _realize_ this until I kind of went on a date with someone else, and then I come back home and Thomas is on the couch half-drunk, and all sad and shit, and he tells me he’s crushed on me since _college_ or whatever so then I kiss him but then he got all angry at me and I think I fucked everything up and I don’t know what to _do_.” Alex ended his word vomit with a dramatic groan and put his face in his hands.

Whatever reaction Alex was expecting to get out of Laf, laughing was not it. The frenchman had a funny expression for a moment before bursting into a huge fit out laughter.

Alex narrowed his eyes. “What’s so funny?” He watched in a mixture of confusion and annoyance as Laf wiped at his face and tried to stop laughing.

After a few moments, Laf collected himself enough to speak. “It is you, mon ami. Finally, you are with Thomas, and yet somehow you have still managed to screw everything over,” he said through giggles.

“How uplifting,” Alex muttered, before realizing something. “Wait– what do you mean _finally I’m with Thomas?_ Did you– did you know about this?”

Laf rolled his eyes. “Do not even get me started. It seemed every hour in college he was in my room, moaning about _Alexander this_ and _Hamilton that_ and _why won’t he just fall in love with me already._ The pining was endless. And I am French, so this is saying something.”

Alex let out a long groan. “Fuck, Laf, what am I gonna do?”

The video buffered, and for a few seconds all Alex could see was a frozen image of Laf with his mouth half-open. It unfroze fairly quickly, but Alex still missed the first part of what Laf was saying.

“–know, Thomas is a very sensitive man. Very prideful and will not admit to such, but sensitive nonetheless. As you seemed to be so blind to his advancements, he probably saw you kissing him so suddenly as an act of pity, not of romantic interest.”

Okay. That made sense. Looking back, Alex could see how Thomas could've taken it that way. Still, it didn't solve his problem.

“So what should I do?” Alex pressed.

Laf looked thoughtful for a moment. “Prove to Thomas that you are serious, I suppose. Let him know that you want him, if you are serious about this.”

Alex felt his heart rate increase. Was it serious? It seemed so, but then again it felt like it shouldn't be.

“I’ve only known him for a week,” Alex pointed out.

Laf only chuckled and shook his head. “Non. You have known him for years, have you not? It is only recently that you have realized your feelings towards him. But you know him, Alexander. Better than most.”

“I _knew_ him. I knew who he _was_. He's changed, now.”

Another shake of the head. “You would be surprised. He has always been like this, you may have just been too busy hating his guts to notice.”

Fuck Laf and his ability to be logical all the damn time. Alex rubbed his temples. “Okay, okay. So I’m serious about this. Now tell me what to _do_.” He stared imploringly at Laf, who rolled his eyes.

“I have already told you what to do, mon ami. You know him. You like him. Now _tell him_.”

“But that’s _hard_ ,” Alex whined.

Laf sighed. “You mustn’t keep running from your problems, mon cher. It will be the death of you.”

The familiarity of Laf’s words struck a chord in Alex.

He nodded begrudgingly. “Fine. I’ll talk to him. But if this fails, and if he ends up hating my guts, I swear to every deity that may be I am going to swim to fucking France and kick your ass.”

Laf’s grin was annoyingly cheeky. “You are the size of a peanut, Alexander. I would love to see you try.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Fuck off, Gilbert.”

Laf held a hand over his heart in mock-offense. “And here I am, being a good friend, and you insult me like this.”

“Oh, shut up, you know I love you,” Alex said, trying to sound irritated but unable to stop the grin from spreading across his face.

“Love you too, mon cher,” Laf replied, blowing a kiss at the screen. “I really must be going, though. Good luck with your romantic endeavors, and give John and Hercules my love.”

“I will,” said Alex, smiling. “Bye, Laf. Thanks for all of the advice. Can’t wait to see you again.”

After returning a blow kiss, Alex shut his computer and fell back onto his bed. He was given a sweet moment to wallow in self-pity before the muffled, yet distinct, sound of a door being opened startled him– Thomas was home.

He took a breath and sat up. Laf’s words ran through his head as he crept over to the door. His hand was on the doorknob, it was turning ever so slowly– he took another breath to calm himself.

Confess his feelings. Maybe apologize for whatever happened last night. It couldn’t be _that_ hard to woo Thomas, right? Could it?

With his palms sweaty and heart pounding in his chest, Alex opened the door and went downstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what do you think... will alex and thomas resolve their problems and ride off into the sunset, or will alex somehow manage to fuck it up even more? tell me what u think in the comments ;0
> 
> talk to me about this story (or jamilton in general on my [tumblr](http://www.roseclipping.tumblr.com) and we'll have a good time.
> 
> leave a comment and kudos, it makes my day <3 thank you for reading!


	6. the confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which alex talks about his feelings, for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was stressed as hell and sick when i wrote this chapter, apologies if it shows through the writing, oops~
> 
> still, i hope you enjoy x

Thomas was already at the counter pouring two glasses of wine by the time Alex came downstairs. He didn’t acknowledge Alex’s presence, not until Alex was reaching for one of the glasses with a questioning glance, as to confirm that it was, in fact, for him. At this, Thomas raised an eyebrow and nodded, and Alex felt a little stupid at his brief flicker of doubt– who else would it be for?

They were quiet for a while, sipping their drinks and not meeting the other’s eye, almost daring each other to speak up first. After a few minutes, Alex cracked; he set his glass on the counter with an unnecessary force and said, “We need to talk.”

A curt nod. A brief moment where Thomas’ eyes met his own. Alex felt his hands curl into fists; Thomas was being difficult. “I’m serious. Don’t close up on me like this. Come on.”

When Thomas showed no sign of answering, Alex huffed in annoyance and promptly grabbed the other man by the wrist, dragging him to the couch. He all but pushed Thomas onto the couch and sat down beside him, leaving a meager five or so inches between them.

Thomas sighed. “So.”

“So,” Alex echoed, suddenly feeling very small. This was not his element. So many things could go wrong, he had to leave, he had to get out, he had to _run–_

No.

 

No more running. 

 

_Breathe._

He swallowed, drew in a shaky breath. “Last night. We need to talk about what happened last night."

“So you’ve said.” Thomas’ voice was careful, closed-off. Guarded, almost.

Alex grit his teeth in frustration. This was hard enough as it was; Thomas’ uncharacteristic laconism was not making things any easier. He took another breath to calm his nerves, and focused on how to put together his thoughts.

“I just… want to apologize,” Alex started. “For what happened. For going on the date. For kissing you. I just–”

“Alexander,” Thomas interrupted. Alex quieted.

Thomas rubbed his temples, his shoulders sagging. Alex hadn’t really noticed it until now, but the man looked exhausted. “Don’t apologize for that,” he said. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I shouldn’t have blown up on you like that. I was drunk, and hurt, and I’m sorry. It was out of line.”

Alex shook his head vehemently. “No, no, no. You shouldn’t be sorry for that. _I’m_ sorry for–”

“I told you not to apologize for that,” Thomas said forcefully. He huffed in frustration. “I– look. Nothing’s going to get done if we keep apologizing to one another. I’m sorry, you’re sorry. We’re both so, so sorry. Might as well be Canadian. Got that out of the way?” 

Alex nodded, somewhat startled by Thomas’ sudden outburst. “Uh. Yeah.” 

“Good,” Thomas said. His eyes bore into Alex’s own, his gaze calculating. Scrutinizing.

A beat of silence passed, and Alex began to wonder whether the conversation was decidedly over, before Thomas spoke up again. “You kissed me.” His words were so blunt, so casual, and yet they practically set Alex’s heart on fire– out of excitement or dread, he wasn’t sure.

“I did,” Alex said. Thomas was still impossible to read; Alex couldn’t see which direction he was going with this.

“But you went on a date.”

Alex winced slightly. He started to say how it was a mistake, how it didn’t mean anything, but at the last second decided against it, his intuition telling him that wasn’t the answer Thomas was looking for.

“I did.”

Thomas cocked his head. “Why?”

Here it was. Alex felt the words bubbling in his chest, threatening to spill over with no rhyme or reason, and forced himself to stop, to breathe, to collect his thoughts and arrange them into careful, composed sentences.

“I thought it would distract me from… from you.” Alex paused. No, no. That wasn’t right. “Rather, the _feelings_ I was having towards you. I– fuck, Thomas, I like you a lot, but I didn’t want to be liking you, and I thought that going on a date would clear my head and it didn’t. If anything, it just made me realize how _much_ I like you.”

Thomas’ brow creased. “You didn’t want to like me?”

Alex cringed internally, because _dammit_ there were a million better ways he could’ve phrased that. He couldn’t dwell on that, though. Time was fleeting.

“No– well, yes. At the time. I don’t know, I was in denial, I was confused, I got it in my head that it was unrequited and I just didn’t want to deal with that.” Alex felt his face heat up. “But I do now.”

He watched in a certain desperation as Thomas picked at one of his nails, searching for some kind of sign that Thomas would break, that he would look up and take Alex into his arms and maybe kiss him and this whole, confusing debacle would be forgotten and–

“You do now,” Thomas echoed hollowly, shaking Alex from his thoughts. Alex tried not to deflate in disappointment; so much for that fantasy.

Still. He could play this game a little longer. “I do.” Alex paused. “Why did you freak out like that when I kissed you?”

A pained expression overtook Thomas’ face. “It felt like a pity kiss.”

“It wasn’t–”

“You keep saying that,” Thomas interrupted. “It doesn’t matter though. Whether it was a pity kiss or not.” He faltered, drew in a breath, and with what appeared to be a considerable amount of difficulty, continued, “I waited six years for that. Six years. And when it finally fucking happens, I’m drunk on my couch and you’ve just gotten back from a date.” His voice was heavy, laced with exhaustion and bitterness.

A flash of guilt hit Alex. The pieces to the puzzle were coming together, and he was realizing just how much this had affected Thomas. Having waited so long for something to happen, and when it finally does… Alex felt like kicking himself.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything, then. It _doesn’t_ mean anything. I shouldn’t have kissed you, I shouldn’t have gone on the stupid date in the first place, but I did, and I can’t change that. But we can forget about it,” Alex pleaded. “Start fresh. Please, Thomas.”

A dizzying quiet passed between them as Alex waited for Thomas to answer. His face was screwed up as if in a state of deep conflict. 

“I just– I don’t know if I _can,_ Alex,” Thomas said, his voice heavy and pained. “It’s not– _fuck_ – it’s not that I don’t want to, because I _do,_ believe me, I do, but…” he trailed off, searching for the right words. “Six years, Alexander. You’ve hated me for six years, or at least haven’t been _friendly_ towards me for six years, and this has all come up in what? One week?”

Alex nodded, shakily. He didn’t like where this was going, not one bit.

“I just need to know that this is _real._ And I don’t yet. I know how you are, Alexander. Nothing can satisfy you. Don’t think I don’t remember what happened with Elizabeth–” Alex cringed, the memory of what he did to Eliza was not one he wanted coming up, especially not right now, “–and I need to know that I’m not just a passing fad for you before– before anything serious happens.”

Thomas slumped back onto the couch with a huff and rubbed his face with his hands. Alex’s mind was spinning– what Thomas said made perfect sense, but then it didn’t, he agreed with Thomas completely, but then he didn’t, everything was too much and too overwhelming to take in at once.

He placed a tentative hand on Thomas’ shoulder. “It doesn’t have to be serious,” he said softly, “I don’t want to rush into anything, either. But I like you a lot, Thomas. We can take it slow, if that’s what you need.” Alex smiled weakly. “I still have a month, remember?”

That earned a dry laugh out of Thomas. “I suppose you do.”

Slowly, cautiously, Alex leaned closer to Thomas. When he was met with no protest, he let himself fall against Thomas’ side, resting his head in the crook of the taller man’s neck. Alex sighed, inhaling Thomas’ scent. He smelled nice. Must use some sort of expensive cologne. Thomas stretched his arm over Alex’s shoulder, reminding him of that clichéd move jocks use in movies to nonchalantly put their arm around their hot, cheerleader girlfriend. He brushed his fingers lightly over Alex’s arm, and Alex almost felt himself dozing off. They stayed like that for a while; it was nice.

The peaceful quiet was interrupted by a particularly loud growl from Alex’s stomach. He yelped in surprise and turned about ten different shades of red, which in turn caused Thomas to snort and double over in laughter.

“Shut up,” Alex muttered, smacking Thomas lightly on the arm. Thomas smirked and shoved him back, and despite his embarrassment, Alex was thanking every deity that may be for the break in tension.

“I should probably feed you, huh,” Thomas said. Alex was hesitant on this– he _was_ hungry, that was undeniable, but he also really didn’t want to move from the couch and banished to his room for an hour while Thomas prepared a meal.

It seemed Thomas felt the same way. “I’m gonna order a pizza,” he said, pulling his phone out of his pocket. Alex breathed a sigh of relief; it seemed Thomas had no plans to move, and so he promptly snuggled back into his side and pulled Thomas’ arm back around him.

“Hi, yes, I’d like to order one large Hawaiian, please?” Thomas said from above him. He nudged Alex slightly. “You like pineapple on pizza, right?” When he was met with an affirmative nod, he continued to order.

Alex let his eyes flutter shut, Thomas’ phone conversation becoming soothing background noise. This whole ordeal must’ve really taken a lot out of him; he rarely ever got this tired, this early.

Ten minutes after Thomas ended the call with a pleasant, lilting, “Thank you, ma’am,” the doorbell rang and Alex was being shoved off of the couch so that Thomas could go answer the door.

“A simple, ‘get up, please’ would’ve worked, you know,” Alex grumbled.

Thomas flashed a cheeky smirk. “Yes, but where’s the fun in that?”

Alex muttered something about _rude ass Southern ass hicks,_ but Thomas was too far away to hear.

He returned with the pizza and a handful of napkins and sat back down on the couch, looking at Alex expectantly. Alex had half a mind to grab a slice and go sit on the chair on the other side of the living room, but in the end crawled– somewhat begrudgingly– back to his original spot and settled into Thomas’ side. 

The pizza was heavenly; much better than the cheap Domino’s or Little Caesars that Alex was used to. Thomas had turned on Project Runway, which Alex still didn’t really understand the appeal of, but it didn’t matter because Thomas kept smiling and occasionally yelling and pointing at the screen, trying to get Alex to pay attention, in a way he could only describe as _fucking adorable._

At some point, Alex must have really dozed off, because suddenly he was being shaken awake and a sweet voice saying _‘Alex, get up’_ registered faintly from above him. He opened his eyes to discover that he had at some point shifted from simply leaning into Thomas’ side, and was now draped across his lap. He blinked, pushed himself back into a sitting position, faced slightly flushed. 

“Maybe you should go to bed,” Thomas mused.

Alex checked his phone for the time. “It’s only ten.”

Thomas shrugged. “Didn’t seem to bother you when you fell asleep on me.” 

“I just got like, so bored by the show that I passed out.” 

He was met with a scoff from Thomas. “Rude. Fine then, you pick something.”

Alex swallowed sheepishly. “I, ah. I actually kind of have homework I should probably do at some point.” He had completely forgotten about it since Thomas came home, but he had a paper due soon and really needed to study. What he wouldn’t give to spend the rest of the night in Thomas’ arms, though.

Thomas deflated a little, but nodded in agreement. “Oh, yeah. That’s fine. You should probably do that, then.”

“I should,” Alex said, though he made no move to get up. It was so nice like this, cuddled next to Thomas on the couch, and the prospect of leaving this for papers and textbooks and studying was not at all appealing, to say the least. 

“Come on,” Thomas said, standing, and offered Alex his hand. He took it, and Thomas led him up the stairs. He only let go of Alex’s hand once they got to the top, instead turning to face Alex with very little space between them.

Alex felt his breath hitch. They were so _close,_ so close that he could see little details of Thomas’ face that he had never noticed before– how long and curled his lashes were, the tiny scar above his right eyebrow, the little freckle on the bridge of his nose, right between the eyes. His gaze travelled down to Thomas’ lips, and he was captivated by how _full_ they were, how curved, and they were so close, it would barely take any effort to lean up a little and–

“So, uh. Studying. I should do that.” The words left Alex’s lips without permission. It was for the best, though, if he had stayed silent for one second more he doubted whether he could’ve controlled himself. They did, after all, just have a rather lengthy conversation about not rushing into anything. Kissing Thomas out of the blue was a bad idea; he learned that the hard way.

Thomas stepped back, shook his head slightly as if emerging from a trance. “Right. Studying. I’ll, ah. Leave you be, I guess.” He rubbed the back of his neck and exhaled, trying to adopt a casual pose and failing miserably. Once he realized he was giving off more of an awkward vibe, rather than a nonchalant one, he turned slowly on his heel to go to his own room. 

“Wait,” Alex said, hand darting out to grab Thomas’ wrist.

Thomas turned back, stepped closer to Alex. _One movement, and you could be kissing him_. The thought flitted through Alex’s head, but he forced it away. Take it slow. Now wasn’t the time. Don’t make another mistake.

Instead, he closed the gap between them by wrapping his arms around Thomas in a tight embrace, face pressed into the taller man’s chest. Thomas inhaled sharply at the sudden contact, but relaxed into it and placed his own arms on Alex’s back, pulling him in even closer. 

They stayed locked in each other’s arms for a while; until Alex pulled away, and stepped back in the direction of his room. “Goodnight, Thomas,” he said softly. 

“Goodnight, Alex.”

With that, Thomas turned and disappeared down the hall. Alex watched him go, part of him yearning to follow and curl up next to Thomas and hold him and never let go, but he forced his feet to carry him back to his own room. Another time, maybe. Hopefully. But for now, he had work to do.

Alex settled on the bed and pulled his computer into his lap. For a solid thirty minutes he made vain attempts to study, to write, to do anything productive, but gave up soon enough. He couldn’t concentrate; his mind was elsewhere. With a frustrated sigh, he resigned himself to laying back on his bed and staring at the ceiling until sleep eventually overtook him.

Full lips and brown skin and dark, dark eyes found their way into his dreams that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well what do you know, alex DIDNT manage to fuck things up completely for himself! shocker. 
> 
> hmu on my [tumblr](http://www.roseclipping.tumblr.com) and yell at me abt jamilton?? pls
> 
> leave a comment and kudos if you're enjoying this story, reading them makes my day <3
> 
> thanks for reading, see you thursday~


	7. the flame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which alex has a night he will never forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> despite the chapter title, there is no actual fire in this chapter. the spark is, dare i say, being fanned into a flame. 
> 
> (also! brief use of slurs in this one. nothing major, just a heads up.)
> 
> enjoy~

The plan was, as Alex had carefully concocted the previous night, to take things slow and not make any advances; instead let Thomas take the reins and decide what to do at his own pace.

Unsurprisingly, this plan lasted all of one day.

Wednesday came and went somewhat uneventfully, with Thomas in a fairly chipper mood, a refreshing contrast to the past couple days. Alex, on the other hand, was jittery and antsy all day, unable to focus, all but consumed in anticipation for something he wasn’t even sure would come. Still, he tried to mask his anxieties around Thomas, and when they parted ways to sleep in separate rooms once more he was _very_ careful not to let any disappointment show on his face.

By the time dinner rolled around on Thursday– Thomas had gotten right back into preparing exquisite, suspiciously romantic dinners for the two of them, complete with a red or gold candle in the middle of the table– Alex had reached his breaking point.

“We should go on a date,” he blurted out once the casual conversation had come to a pause. 

Thomas raised an eyebrow. “A date?”

“Yeah,” Alex said, nodding enthusiastically. “Like, a real one. You know, going to the park, or seeing a movie or something. A date.”

The candle flickered in the dimmed light, casting a lovely warm glow on Thomas’ face. It suited him. “Your track record for dates recently hasn’t exactly been stellar,” Thomas said wryly.

Alex winced. He didn’t like thinking about the fiasco that happened with Jay. “That was different. I actually _want_ to go on this one.”

A hint of a smile played at the corner of Thomas’ lips. “Then I suppose there’s no harm in it. Tomorrow night?”

A sigh of relief escaped Alex. “Perfect.”

“One condition, though. I get to pick where we go. Oh, and I’m paying.” 

Alex sputtered, began to protest, but was quickly shushed by Thomas. “I mean this in the least offensive way possible, Alex, but you’re broke. I don’t want you spending money that you don’t have on me, but I also don’t want our first date to be in the back booth of a Burger King.” 

_First date._ The words made Alex’s heart do circus tricks. Not just ‘a date,’ but _our first date._ As in, more would follow. It was a thought that made Alex so warm inside that he barely even fought with Thomas about paying.

“Help me with the dishes, will you?” Thomas said, some time later. He stood and took the empty plates from the table, gesturing with a nod of the head for Alex to follow. “I’ll wash. You dry.”

Alex grabbed the glasses and gathered the various pots and pans that had been left strewn around the kitchen, and situated himself next to Thomas with a dish towel. They found a steady rhythm; Thomas up to his elbows in soap suds handing dishes off one by one to Alex, who wiped them down with a towel and set them back in their designated spot in the cabinet. The act was oddly domestic, and Alex found himself humoring the idea of standing like this, side by side, washing dishes or doing laundry or something two years, five years, ten years in the future. The thought made his chest warm, and a tiny smile found its way onto his lips. He breathed a quick prayer to every power that may be that he didn’t fuck this up.

––– 

Five thirty-nine. 

The red numbers seemed to jeer at Alex, taunting him mercilessly as he paced back and forth in his room, in a state of such anxiety and excitement that the mere prospect of sitting still was laughable. Twenty one minutes, Twenty one short minutes and Thomas would be home and they’d be off on their mystery date in which Thomas had refused to tell him anything about. Perhaps _short_ was the wrong word, actually; never in Alexander’s life had it seemed like time was dragging on so _slowly._

He turned to face the mirror and fiddled with the collar of his shirt. It was the nicest shirt he owned, and therefore most appropriate for a date, but wearing it just felt… wrong. It was the same shirt he wore on his date with Jay, and it felt like a bad omen. 

An idea came to him suddenly; a brilliant solution to his problem. He ran at once to Thomas’ room and dug around in his closet until he found it– the dark green sweater Thomas had lent him earlier. _Perfect._ He tugged the sweater over his head and retreated to the bathroom, where he spent fifteen minutes attempting in vain to wrangle his hair into a something somewhat presentable.  

Back to pacing. 

Finally, _finally_ he heard the distinct sound of a door being opened, and practically tripped over his own feet in his haste to bound downstairs. He actually _did_ trip on the last step, and fell with a startled yelp rather ungracefully at Thomas’ feet.

Thomas looked shocked for a fleeting second before doubling over in laughter, which in turn caused Alex to turn what was probably the deepest shade of red humanly possible.

“Fucking _hell,”_ Thomas cackled, holding out a hand to help Alex to his feet, “That was the best thing I’ve seen all day. My god.”

“Oh shut up,” Alex grumbled. He ran a hand through his hair– great, now _that_ was ruined too. Off to a great start.

Thomas grinned, the cheeky, shit-eating grin that Alex had simultaneously grown to love and hate. “Well, what do you know. You’ve positively _fallen_ for me.” 

Alex rolled his eyes, pretended to be angry, but soon enough succumbed to the humor of the situation– not to mention Thomas’ less-than-stellar pun– and found himself giggling at his own expense. 

He clapped his hands together. “So. Can we go?” he asked, trying not to sound too much like an overexcited teenager.

“Patience, Alexander,” Thomas tutted, raising his eyebrows in mock condescension. “I have to get ready. You can’t possibly expect me to wear work clothes on a date.”

_You look fine to me,_ Alex thought as Thomas turned swiftly and ran up the stairs, but the thought was quickly overruled when he came back down the stairs looking like an Adonis– in the black button-down he had worn on their first dinner, and a pair of pants that could be described only as _fuck-me jeans._

“I’m ready,” Thomas said, offering his arm out to Alex like he was some sort of dainty Southern Belle and Thomas his escort. Alex rolled his eyes at the gesture, but took Thomas’ arm nonetheless. 

The air was crisp and cold when they stepped out into the city. Alex shivered at the sudden change in temperature, and hugged the sweater tighter around his frame.

“So, care to tell me where we're going?” Alex asked as he pulled his seat belt over his frame, buckling it in with a satisfying _click_.  

Thomas only hummed. “Dinner, and then a surprise. Trust me, you'll love it.” 

Alex huffed and slumped back in his seat. “I hate surprises,” he grumbled, but couldn't help the buzz of excitement that rattled through his bones like an electric current.

The drive was short, only a few blocks. They could’ve walked, really, if it weren’t for the cold. Alex never did well in the cold. Thomas stepped out first and walked around the car, opening the passenger side door for Alex.

“Thank you, kind sir,” Alex said sarcastically. Thomas responded with an over dramatic bow and a horribly accented “M’lady,” and offered his arm once more.

They found themselves at a two person table in a bustling little Italian bistro, which Thomas had described as ‘the best in the city’ and ‘if you want authentic Italian, this is it’ upon walking in. The atmosphere was warm and inviting; it wasn’t the high-class, pretentious fancy diner Alex was expecting, knowing Thomas, and he was pleasantly surprised by that. 

“This was the first restaurant in New York I ate at,” Thomas said, once the waiter had come by and taken their orders. “I know the owners, actually. Wonderful people.”

The conversation drifted from topic to topic; ranging from politics to favorite dog breeds to childhood memories. At one point, Thomas got on a particularly nostalgic ramble about growing up in Virginia, and the wistful shine in his eyes filled Alex with a sort of bittersweet sensation– seeing Thomas so happy about something made him in turn feel happy, but he also felt a twinge of envy at the fact that Thomas seemed to have such a joyous life growing up, when his was anything but. He forced the moment of self-pity out with a shake of the head, refocusing instead on the light that seemed to radiate from Thomas as he spoke.

The food was good, it was great, though Alex decided that nothing could beat Thomas’ own cooking. Thomas paid and thanked the waiter, and soon enough they were back in the car, onto part two of this mystery date.

“So… still not telling me where we’re going?” Alex asked, halfheartedly hoping that Thomas would actually reveal to him their destination. 

No such luck. “We’ll be there in like, ten minutes,” Thomas said, rolling his eyes. “You can wait. Like I said, you’re going to love it.” 

As it turned out, it took less than ten for Alex to figure out where they were headed. Ever the observant type, it did not take long for him to recognize the roads they were taking and realize there was only one place they could be going.

“Oh my _god,”_ Alex gasped. “Are we seeing a _play?”_

Thomas chuckled. “You act as if you’ve never seen a show before.” He paused. “You _have_ seen a Broadway show, right?”

Alex reddened. “I have,” he said defensively. “Twice.” 

“Only twice?”

Alex fidgeted in seat uncomfortably. Yes, he’d only seen _two shows_ , he didn’t exactly have the funds to see any more. His financial situation was a sore spot; Thomas knew this. Clearly he didn’t think about how the question sounded before asking.

His discomfort must’ve shown in his face, or perhaps Thomas realized on his own, because his eyes widened at once and he drew in a sharp breath. “Oh shit– I didn’t mean it like–” he exclaimed, fumbling over his words. “Ah, fuck… well, now it’s up to three, I guess?” His mouth twisted up in a sort of half-smile, and he gave an awkward laugh to try and relieve the tension.

All tension was evaporated, thankfully, when the car pulled to a stop and Alex found himself standing before the Minskoff Theater.

“How the _fuck_ did you get tickets?” Alex asked in awe, his eyes alight and shining. Thomas only smirked.  

“I have connections. Now come on, it’s 7:49. The shows about to start.” He grabbed Alex by the hand and led him into the theater. Alex trailed behind him, taking in the atmosphere with a wide-eyed, childlike wonder.

“I’m seeing The Lion King,” Alex muttered to himself. “I’m seeing The Lion King, you’re taking me to see _fucking Lion King_ , holy shit, this is unreal.”  

Thomas only squeezed his hand tighter as they wormed their way through the crowd of people to find seats. Alex couldn’t seem to stop bouncing in his seat like a child– which gave Thomas an excuse to rest his hand on his thigh– and when the lights dimmed he nearly _screamed–_ slapping a hand over his mouth just in time to stop himself from crying out.

The show was _breathtaking._ Alex felt as if he were in a dream– the thought that at this time, two weeks ago, he was locked up in his room in an probably unwashed sweatshirt, emptying a can of Febreze to try and mask the smell of weed was almost laughable. At one point during Be Prepared, Alex grabbed Thomas’ hand and breathed a ‘holy shit,’ and Thomas didn’t let go, not until the show was over and he and Alex stood and wildly applauded.  

Alexander found himself floating in a giddy haze, his blood coursing with an exhilarating fire and his head dizzy and deliriously gleeful. Stepping out into the bitter cold barely seemed to phase him, and he didn’t even think twice before taking Thomas’ hand and lacing their fingers together, swinging their arms ever so slightly between them as they meandered down the street in the direction of the parking garage.

“So, I take it you enjoyed it?” Thomas asked, reaching up with his other hand to brush a stray hair from Alex’s face.

“Are you _kidding?”_ Alex’s tone was equal parts amused and incredulous. “That was amazing. That was the best night of my life.” 

Thomas smiled, and right then and there Alex decided he would never get tired of seeing that smile. He gave Thomas’ hand a squeeze and pushed himself closer to the other man’s side. Alex felt as though they were in a bubble; just the two of them, together. It was blissful.

The bubble was popped when a gruff looking man stormed past them, purposefully shoving into Thomas’ shoulder and muttering _‘faggot.’_

Alex whirled around, taking Thomas with him, and yelled angrily, “What the _fuck_ did you just say?” 

The asshole paused, turned around, and had the _audacity_ to step forwards and push himself into Alex’s face. He was tall, nearly as tall as Thomas, but much broader in shoulder and towered over Alex.

“You heard me, I called your fucking _boyfriend_ a _fag,”_ he spat, and his breath reeked of alcohol so strongly that Alex visibly shuddered.

“Don’t you _dare_ call him that,” Alex said, his voice low and shaking with anger. He was seeing red, how dare this prick call Thomas a fag, how _dare he–_

“And what are you gonna do about it, sweetheart?” The man’s sneer reminded Alex of a Disney villain in how grotesque it was– if Alex wasn’t too busy seething with rage, he would’ve found it comical.

The next few things happened very fast. Alex’s fist collided with a nose. And then an eye. People crowded around them, there were shouts and yells, but it all sounded distant to Alex, like he was underwater. A pair of hands were pulling him back– could’ve been a strangers, could’ve been Thomas, he didn’t know. A high, piercing sound shot through the commotion– a siren? Someone was pushing him into the back of a car. _Where was Thomas?_ He tried to reach for his phone, but found he couldn’t move his arms. Why couldn’t he move his arms? They seemed to be locked together at the wrist. _Handcuffs?_ The car stopped. Someone was escorting him out. Someone else was asking him questions, he vaguely remembered answering them.

_“Alexander!”_

Alex snapped out of his daze at once to see Thomas in front of him, eyes wide and concerned. He looked frazzled, and the way he was breathing suggested he was out of breath.

“Thomas– hey–” Alex said, but found his voice to be hoarse and raspy. He blinked, then looked around at his surroundings, as if he just realized where he was. A booking room. “Shit. _Fuck._ What’s happening?”

“You tell me. Holy hell. I cannot believe you _fought_ that guy, like you actually _fought him–”_  

“He called you a fag!”

Thomas’ eyes widened even more. “Alex, I’m _gay._ Plenty of people have called me that. You don’t need to go get yourself _arrested_ for it.”

_Arrested._ Right. The police, the sirens. Everything was coming back to him, the fog was clearing. “Shit, am I going to jail?” Alex asked in a hushed voice, suddenly horrified with himself. He couldn’t go to _jail!_ Might as well kiss his scholarships goodbye.  

Thankfully, Thomas shook his head. “I’m bailing you out. The fight wasn’t terrible, you didn’t knock him out or anything. We’re just waiting for them to release you, and then we can go.”

Alex let out a sigh of relief. “Thank god.”

Thomas nodded in agreement. “That was really stupid, what you just did. I mean, I know you’re notorious for doing stupid shit, but like, that was a new record.”

“Shut up, I was defending your honor.”

“My honor doesn’t need defending. It’s invincible.”

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Alex felt at ease. He became so caught up in his little world with Thomas that he forgot he had even been arrested until an officer came by to release him.

–––

It was nearly three in the morning by the time they got home. Upon entering the living room, Alex immediately collapsed on the couch, suddenly exhausted. The night had been eventful, to say the very least, and it seemed to have taken a toll on him, because he felt as if he couch fall asleep right then and there. 

“Come on, Alex, let’s go to bed,” Thomas said softly. He pulled Alex up and led him up the stairs, and no words were spoken between them as they both walked into Thomas’ room. No words were spoken between them as Thomas tossed Alex a loose t-shirt and pair of sweatpants to change into, and no words were spoken between them as they crawled beneath the covers, facing each other, only a few inches separating their bodies. If Alex were more awake, he might have tried to close that distance, replace any semblance of space with hot touches and kisses and _‘yes, Thomas, please.’_ But he wasn’t, and heavy, dark waves of exhaustion kept crashing over him with an irresistible, pounding force, and so he was content in laying by Thomas’ side and letting sleep overtake him.  

And if Thomas wrapped a strong arm around Alex’s frame to pull him close, well, no words were spoken of it.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HA you thought they were gonna kiss in this chapter didnt you... you just got pranked
> 
> ALSO i noticed that the spaces in between paragraphs in this fic are like, way bigger than other fics??? does that bother you guys? it kinda bothers me and idk if i should go back and change it. lemme know if its weird to you or if you havent noticed it or 
> 
> eyy go check out my [tumblr](http://www.roseclipping.tumblr.com)!!!! i love talking abt this fic/jamilton in general with you guys. (also, if someone did art of this fic i would cry. just sayin.) 
> 
> leave a comment and kudos if you enjoyed, i love love love hearing from you guys!!
> 
> (also disclaimer: i have no clue how the arrest/bail process works, sorry if that part was wildly inaccurate. but hey. this is gay fanfiction about the founding fathers, so who the heck even cares, right?)
> 
> thanks for reading <3


	8. the breakdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which they finally work things out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote like, all of this in one day. somebody give me a medal.
> 
> (seriously though. enjoy x)

Alex woke to find his face pressed into the crook of a neck, cradled by toned, strong arms wrapped around his frame, holding him close. A moment of sleepy confusion fell over him, causing him to tense and nearly pry himself from the other man’s hold, before coming to his senses a moment later and remembering where he was– and who he was with.

_Thomas._

He immediately relaxed back into the pillows, craning his neck up slightly to study Thomas’ face. He looked so peaceful in sleep, no laugh lines or brow creases in sight. Alex found himself fascinated by Thomas’ lashes; they were so long and curved, a kind of soft femininity that contrasted beautifully with the sharp angles and strong angles of his face. 

Those lashes fluttered open and Alex was met with Thomas’ sleepy gaze, and immediately decided that would be the _perfect_ thing to wake up to each morning.  

Thomas blinked twice, then his eyes widened and his breath hitched in a sort of gasp. “Alex.”

One hand came up to gingerly brush over Alex’s cheek, as if Thomas was reassuring to himself that Alex was real and not some sort of hallucination.

Alex cracked a tiny smile. “Thomas.”

Thomas’ eyes bore deep into Alex’s own. They flitted over him in an almost frantic manner, like he was searching for something– for what, Alex couldn't tell.

Then suddenly Thomas was pressing a kiss to Alex’s forehead, holding him close, and Alex briefly wondered if maybe his lips would travel further down, meet his own, and then after that they might go even _farther_ down–

“Come on, let’s get breakfast,” Thomas said, sitting up, effectively pulling Alex from his sudden fantasy. He rolled off the bed, Alex following suit, and together they made their way downstairs to the kitchen.

Thomas instantly started pulling this and that from the cabinets and setting them on the counter.

“Whatcha making?” Alex asked, leaning his elbows on the table.

“Crêpes. And also eggs.”

Alex cocked his head. “Over easy?"

“No. I have self-respect.”

Thomas smirked and Alex pretended to be offended, but couldn’t help the way his lips curved upwards in a tiny smile. 

They ate breakfast in a comfortable silence, and retreated to the living room to watch Project Runway, at Thomas’ request. Instead of sitting on either sides of the couch, as they had grown accustomed to doing, Thomas laid out horizontally and gestured for Alex to do the same. Alex happily obliged and nestled himself against Thomas in a sort of spooning position, even going so far as to pull Thomas’ arm around his waist.

The show proved to be about as interesting to Alex as it had always been, so he instead entertained himself by taking one of Thomas’ hand in his own and playing with it; examining each of the long, slender fingers in detail with the scrutiny of a scientist examining a specimen. Thomas’ nails in particular intrigued him, they were all neatly filed and well-kept, each adorned with a coat of glistening clear polish. They were nothing like Alex’s own; all calloused fingertips and overgrown cuticles and nails bitten back to the nailbed– result of a nervous habit Alex had never really grown out of. It made Alex feel a little self-conscious, really.

“Your nails are so nice,” Alex said, voicing his thoughts out loud. “Mine are ugly.”

Thomas tutted. “Don’t say that. Your nails are beautiful.”

Alex scoffed and shoved his hands into Thomas’ face. “You sure about that?”

“Okay. Maybe you’re right.” Thomas pushed Alex’s hand back down and laced their fingers together. He leaned close to Alex’s ear. “Doesn’t mean your hands are any less _functional.”_

Alex sputtered and felt his face go red at the sudden suggestive remark.

“What?” Thomas asked, his voice high and dripping with a mock-innocence. “I only meant _writing._ God, Alex, get your mind out of the gutter.” 

A wicked grin inched onto Alex’s face, and he shifted his body to face the other man. “Well. I suppose you’re right. In fact, I could probably show you just how good my _writing_ is…” He trailed off, pressed himself ever-so-slightly closer to Thomas–

Alex’s phone went off suddenly, startling them both.

_God damn phone being a fucking cockblock,_ Alex thought as he reached over to grab it from the coffee table. It was a text message. 

“What is it?” Thomas asked.

Alex sighed as he skimmed the message, then read aloud. “‘Hey Alex, I have a test tomorrow can you PLEASE come tutor me. I really need help and I’m going out with friends tonight. I’ll give you fifty bucks if you come now.’ It’s from this year 1 student I tutor sometimes.” He bit his lip– _why_ did Sam have to text _now,_ of all times? Fifty bucks… he could really use the money, but at the same time he _really_ didn’t want to leave his current position.

“Go, then,” Thomas said, shifting up into a sitting position.

“Are you sure? I hate to leave, it’s Saturday,” Alex said, feeling slightly guilty. Thomas only shrugged.

“I’m not going anywhere. Just don’t take like, all day.”

“I won’t. It’ll be two hours, at most. I promise.” Well, his tutoring sessions usually lasted three hours at the least, but hey. Sacrifices must be made for the greater good. 

Thomas nodded. “That’s fine. I’ll probably just nap.”

“Nap?” Alex raised an eyebrow. “We literally just woke up like, an hour ago.”

Thomas shrugged. “What can I say. I need my beauty sleep.”

Alex breathed a laugh and sent a quick text to Sam, telling him to be at the public library in fifteen minutes, and grabbed his jacket from where it lay on the chair.

“I’ll be back soon. Don’t miss me too much.” Unable to stop himself, Alex bent down and places a quick kiss to Thomas’ cheek, and hurried out of the house before the blush in his cheeks became too obvious. 

–––

The impromptu tutoring session went alright; though it seemed to drag on a lot longer than the one hour and forty-three minutes it actually took. Sam seemed to be less-than-pleased with the brevity of it, though Alex couldn’t find it within him to care all that much– he had much more _pressing_ matters to attend to.

Cold fingers fumbled to get the key in the keyhole, but Alex succeeded after the third try and the door creaked open. Upon entering he found that Thomas was not in the living room, or in the kitchen for that matter, and he heard no “Hey, Alex,” or any variant of it. Perhaps he _did_ take a nap. Just to be safe, Alex resisted yelling out a greeting and crept up the stairs, making as little noise as possible.

It seemed Thomas wasn’t asleep, however, as Alex heard the faint sound of talking from Thomas’ room. He walked towards the cracked door and peered inside. Thomas was on his bed, faced away from Alex, with a phone in one hand.

He shouldn’t eavesdrop, he really shouldn’t. He should clear his throat right now to make Thomas aware of his presence, or just walk away and leave him alone. He should definitely _not_ stay quiet and listen to Thomas’ conversation.

Alex stayed quiet.

“–yeah, yeah, it’s been nice.” Thomas was saying. “No, nothing’s happened yet– _no,_ James, I’m not lying– he got arrested for me, though, that’s probably like, sixth base, right?”

Alex felt his breath hitch. They were talking about _him._

“I don’t know what to do, man,” Thomas continued, his voice suddenly growing weary. “I mean, I like him, I really do, but I’m just afraid I’m gonna fuck it up, you know?” 

_Impossible,_ Alex thought.

“But more than that, though, I’m fucking _terrified.”_ This caught Alex’s attention. Terrified? Of _what?_  

Thomas groaned, shifted slightly, and Alex had to step to the side a little to avoid being seen. “What if he gets bored, James? You remember what he was like in college. With Eliza, and that Lewis girl.” Alex winced at the thought. Those were not welcome memories.

“And I’m just– _fuck,_ I’m scared to start anything real,” Thomas said, “I don’t know, I’ve wanted this for so long, and now that it’s finally _happening_ I’m freaking the _fuck_ out– if this turns to shit, I don’t know how I’d recover, honestly–”

That was enough. Alex coughed softly, just enough to let Thomas know he was there. Thomas turned to the doorway and his eyes widened at once, a mixture of shock and horror overtaking his face.

“I’m gonna have to call you back, Jemmy,” he said quietly, and dropped the phone. 

Alex took a few tentative steps into the room. Thomas lay still, unreadable, and Alex found himself suddenly very, _very_ nervous.

_“Alexander.”_ Thomas’ voice was hushed. “I– _fuck–_ how much did you hear?”

“Most of it,” Alex said sheepishly, glancing at his feet. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, you were just _there_ and… yeah.”

Thomas groaned loudly and covered his face with his hands. _“Fuck._ What the hell, Alex.” 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I really am…” Alex hurried to the bed and sat down next to Thomas. “We can– do you want to talk about anything?”

He was met with a dry gaze, a sardonic raise of the eyebrow. “Talk?”

Alex nodded. “Talk, yeah. About… about what you said. What I heard.”

“Are you aware of just how much I _don’t_ want to have that conversation?” Thomas rolled onto his stomach and slammed his face into the pillow.  

A weary hand reached out and settled on Thomas’ back, in between the shoulder blades. “I know, I know,” Alex said softly. “But nothing’s gonna happen if we don’t talk about it.” A small smile cracked his lips. “Quit, running, Thomas.”

Thomas tensed at the familiarity of the words, but slowly, reluctantly, relaxed and sat up, repositioning himself to lean against the headboard. “I don’t know, Alex. You heard what you heard. Not much more to say.”

Alex sighed, and planned his next words very carefully. “You said you were scared,” he began. “Of starting something with me, because it might not go well.” He paused, waiting for Thomas to confirm this.

A curt nod was his only response.

“Well…” he faltered, words like _‘that’s not true’_ and _‘we’ll be together forever’_ bubbling up in his throat, almost spilling over. That wasn’t true, though. Empty reassurances would do no good here.

So he changed course.

“Maybe, maybe it won’t work out,” Alex said, the words sounding oddly stilted as they left his lips. Thomas opened his mouth to say something, but Alex held up a finger and continued. “Maybe we start dating, two months down the line we get bored. Maybe five years from now you won’t even be able to say my name without wanting to punch someone. A lot of things could go wrong, Thomas. That’s just a fact.”

“How reassuring.” Thomas’ voice was dry, almost bitter. 

“I’m not finished,” Alex said, and continued. “Maybe it doesn’t work out and it all goes to shit and someone’s heart gets broken. It could happen, I’m not going to sit here and pretend that there’s not the chance for that.” He could feel his voice getting wobbly, and took one of Thomas’ hands in his own to calm himself. “But maybe it doesn’t end like that. I like you a lot, Thomas, and I can honestly say that in this moment, I’d want to spend the rest of my life with you. But we’re never going to know what’s gonna happen if we don’t _try.”_  

He waited for some kind of response from Thomas, but was met with only silence and a piercing gaze. So, in his true nature, he continued speaking. “I fucked up with Eliza, I know that. But that was then. And honestly, I never felt so strongly for Eliza as I do now. For you. I love you, Thomas, and what I feel now– it’s entirely different, it feels way more _real_ than what I had with her–” 

“Shut _up,_ Alex,” Thomas said suddenly. “God– you sound so _pretentious,_ shit–”

And Alex would have said something to defend himself; more specifically, defend his proclamation of love that could be described as no less than phenomenal, but then two hands were clasping either side of his face and pulling him in, and then Thomas’ lips were on his own and suddenly everything else became insignificant.

Alex gasped as hands left his face and found his back, the sides of his neck, then finally tangled themselves in his hair. He pulled himself on top of Thomas and sank into the kiss, rocking back and forth ever so slightly. Thomas’ lips felt like heaven, like paradise, like every other cliché and it felt so _right._ Their bodies moved together like clockwork, a symphony of little gasps and breaths and whispered exclamations of _“Thomas”_ when lips connected with jawlines, hot breath on sensitive skin that lit Alex’s very bones on fire. They kissed, though it seemed like so much more than that– what was once a spark had grown into a flame, but _now_ it was a wildfire, bright and frantic and burning with a passion unlike any other.

Thomas pulled back eventually, breathless, and his hands went back to cradling Alex’s face. “You talk too much.” 

Alex laughed. “Feel free to shut me up anytime.”

And then Thomas was smiling, then laughing, then pulling Alex back into another kiss that was just as spectacular as the first. Hands adorned with long, slender fingers and perfectly manicured nails ran over his body, each touch setting off something raw and primal buried deep within Alex. Hands found their way underneath layers of clothing, soft brushes and caresses that elicited the most beautiful sounds from Alexander– all gasps and cries and _“yes, Thomas, please–”_

_One month,_ Alex thought sometime later, while lazily tracing circles into Thomas’ chest. He had been given one month to ‘figure things out’– how amusing, it had barely taken him two weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aww look at that, our idiots finally figured things out <3
> 
> only a few more chapters after this!! i cant believe its coming to a close, aww. 
> 
> hit me the heck up on my [tumblr](http://www.roseclipping.tumblr.com) i love love love getting messages from you guys!!!!
> 
> please comment if you enjoyed, reading them really makes my day <33 thank you so much for reading!


	9. the end

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which alex runs into a familiar face. well, two of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys, omg, theres [fanart](https://roseclipping.tumblr.com/post/158887353696/viperdoodles-jamilton-fanfic-fan-art-title) for this fic???? drawn by [viperdoodles](https://viperdoodles.tumblr.com) on tumblr, seriously go reblog n give it some love its so cute. 
> 
> enjoy <33

The rest of the Saturday proved to be just as lazy as the beginning; even more so in the evening, as it seemed their midday shenanigans had exhausted both of them to the point where they were content with stretching out on the couch and binging Netflix for the rest of the night.

Alex found himself in a blissful position– snuggled into Thomas’ chest with one arm slung lazily over the taller man’s midriff, with one of Thomas’ hands rubbing comforting circles into his shoulder, holding him close. An obscenely fluffy throw blanket was enveloping the pair, and– by some miracle, probably– Alex had convinced Thomas to put on something  _ other  _ than Project Runway. 

A hand found it’s way into Alex’s hair, causing him to hum with pleasure and nuzzle closer into Thomas’ side. 

“Why couldn’t we have figured this out sooner,” Alex mused, because it was honestly kind of ridiculous– it had taken them so long to reach an arrangement that was so simple, yet so perfect. Hell, this could’ve started in  _ college, _ if Alex wasn’t so dense back then.

“If I’m remembering correctly, I tried to woo you, dumbass,” Thomas said, giving Alex’s ribs a playful prod. “But then you decided to be an idiot and go on a date with somebody else.”

Alex groaned a little at the thought. Poor Jay. Wonder what he’s up to now. “Don’t remind me.” 

Thomas only chuckled in response and planted a kiss to the side of Alex’s head. “Guess we better make up for lost time.”

The words set off fireworks in Alex’s gut, and he tilted his head upwards to catch Thomas’ lips in a kiss. He maneuvered himself around so that he was basically straddling Thomas; chests pressed together, one leg on either side of Thomas’ thighs, one hand cupping cupping his cheek and the other placed gingerly on the side of his neck. Thomas’ hands trailed from his hair to his back, then his hips, before coming to a rest planted firmly on Alex’s ass– a touch that elicited an unapologetic gasp from the smaller man. 

_ “Thomas,” _ Alex whispered, chest rising and falling as he took in one heavy breath after another. He rolled his hips slightly in Thomas’ lap, which caused his grip on Alex to only tighten. Thomas rubbed sweet little circles into his ass with his thumbs, and Alex whined, he actually  _ whined _ against Thomas _ ,  _ letting his face fall into the crook of his neck. “I think–” he said, alternating between speaking and peppering kisses along Thomas’ skin, “–that we– should go– upstairs.” 

Thomas shifted underneath him. “Or we could– stay here,” he gasped as Alex found a particularly sensitive patch of skin. Alex hummed in agreement and in one fluid motion slid off of the couch into a kneeling position, situated right between Thomas’ legs. 

“I like that idea, too,” Alex said, his voice sweet and lilting.

That hand, that clever, clever hand, found it’s way back into Alex’s hair, pulling slightly in a way that made his breath hitch and his whole body shake. Alex ran his own hands along the insides of Thomas’ thighs, brushing under waistbands and over skin with a soft precision; mapping out every inch of the other man’s skin as though it were the most important thing in the world– and in that moment, it was. 

Flushed lips met with the joining of thighs, and Alex found bliss.

–––

“I  _ hate  _ snow,” Alex grumbled as he wrapped his jacket around his frame a little tighter. Thomas had suggested they go out for a nice Sunday brunch, and by some miracle had convinced Alex to walk to the place instead of driving. ‘It’s the first snow of the year,’ Thomas had said. ‘It’ll be nice.’

_ Fuck  _ that.

Thomas chuckled and slung an arm over Alex’s shoulder. It didn’t make a big difference, but Alex sank into the source of body heat all the same. “Honestly, ‘Lex, you’ve lived in New York for what? Seven years? How are you not used to the cold?”

“Because I stay  _ inside _ in the winter, like a  _ normal person,” _ Alex retorted. 

“Such a drama queen. Look, we’re already here.” Thomas came to a halt in front of a quaint little coffee shop– thankfully not the one Jay worked at– and led him inside. They found a place to sit; a little two-chair table next to the window, and a waitress came by and took their orders. Thomas excused himself to go to the bathroom, and Alex found himself alone. 

Not for long; though, when suddenly the cry of his own name in a familiar voice from behind startled him.

_ “Alex!” _

He turned to see John and Hercules rushing towards him, and immediately felt a pang of guilt run through him. What with everything that had been going on with Thomas, he had completely forgotten about them. It had been what, two weeks? Two and a half? Fuck, they were probably worried  _ sick. _

“Holy shit, Alex, where have you  _ been?  _ We’ve been worried sick!” John exclaimed, and Alex’s brain had just enough time to register his words and think  _ hah, I was just thinking that, _ before he was being attacked with a bone-crushing hug from Hercules.

“You have no idea how glad I am to see you dude– I should’ve called, we should’ve called, John wanted to call you the day after you left but I told him you’d come back when you were ready–  _ shit,  _ I should’ve called–”

“Where have you been? Eliza and Angie are out of town, please tell me you haven’t been staying in a  _ hotel, _ you know you can’t afford that–”

“Slow down, holy hell,” Alex said, silencing the two men and wrenching himself from Hercules’ grasp. His face reddened when he felt curious eyes of pretty much the entire cafe on him– they had caused a little bit of a scene.

He lowered his voice to an appropriate volume, trying to draw as little attention to himself as possible. “I’m okay, guys, really. And I’m so sorry, I should’ve called you sooner, that was my fault. I’m okay, though. And no, I’m not staying in a hotel.”

“Where are you staying, then?” John asked, blinking in confusion. “You don’t have any other friends.”

Alex opened his mouth to respond, to try and give the simplest explanation possible for the exact events that had led him to this spot, but was, as luck would have it, interrupted by two hands snaking their way around his midriff from behind, coming to rest on Alex’s stomach– locking him in an odd sort of backwards hug. ‘Upright spooning’ would be a better word for it.

“Who are your, ah, _ friends, _ babe?” Thomas asked, resting his chin on Alex’s shoulder. Alex nearly coughed– ‘babe?’ And why was Thomas suddenly being so touchy-feely? Alex wasn’t huge on PDA, and as far as he knew, Thomas was the same, so this sudden display was odd, to say the least.

Alex shifted, trying to wriggle himself out of Thomas’ hold, to no avail. “This is John and Hercules. You know, my  _ roommates.”  _

Thomas blinked, then immediately let go of Alex. “Oh! Right. I, ah– I recognize you from college,” Thomas said with a nod to John. “Sorry, I um–”

It suddenly clicked; Thomas’ sudden affection, his look of surprise and almost sheepishness upon realizing who John and Hercules were. Alex wasn’t dumb, and two and two could quite easily be put together. 

“Oh my god–  _ Thomas,  _ did you think– you actually thought– were you  _ jealous?”  _ Alex said, stuttering through fits of laughter. 

The deep shade of pink that flushed Thomas’ face only caused Alex to laugh even harder.

“Oh shut up, I saw you talking to two strangers, what was I supposed to think?” Thomas said, clearly trying to sound indignant but coming off as embarrassed. 

Before Alex was able to give a response, John let out a bewildered, high pitched squeak– “Um,  _ Alex?  _ I– what is this?”

His focus returned to his former roommates, and the sight was quite amusing. John and Hercules stood stock still, eyes comically wide, staring open-mouthed at Alex and Thomas.  _ Right.  _ As far as they knew, Thomas was still his enemy at worst, acquaintance at best. He should probably address that.

Alex cleared his throat. “Well– ah– I’ve been staying with Thomas,” he said, knowing full and well that that did nothing to ease their confusion. “And, um. It’s a long story, but we… worked out our differences, I guess you could say.”

John’s gaze moved from Alex to Thomas, and then back to Alex again, as though trying to process what Alex was implying.

“So… this is a thing now? You two are… a thing?” John said slowly. A glance at Thomas for confirmation, and Alex nodded. The act made his heart flutter, made it feel so much more  _ real, _ which he knew to be kind of ridiculous, being affected by such a small movement– after all, he  _ had  _ blown Thomas on the couch barely twelve hours prior. 

Hercules shook his head, his brow heavily creased. “Okay– care to explain how the  _ fuck _ this happened?” 

Alex shared a quick glance with Thomas and half-smiled apologetically. “You might need to sit down for this… care to join us for brunch?”

–––

After pushing two tables together and getting more than a few dirty looks from the waiters, Alex and Thomas were able to tell the story, as long-winded and confusing as it may have been. John laughed obnoxiously loud as Thomas recounted the time Alex fell flat on his face in his hurry to run down the stairs, and Hercules whooped and high-fived Alex when he told them how he got arrested for punching a bigot in the face. All in all, it went pretty smoothly.

“So, Thomas, tell me– is Alex as loud and annoying in bed as he is in real life?” Hercules asked in an all-too-casual manner. His tone was so nonchalant it could’ve been just as easily been used for something as simple as asking about the weather– though the devilish smirk he wore gave it away. 

Alex choked, spluttered out a defensive  _ “No!” _ at the exact same time Thomas grinned and said all too smugly,  _ “Yes.”  _ The younger man’s face burned, and he aimed a not-so-gentle elbow jab to Thomas’ ribs.

Thomas tutted. “It’s okay, darling, I like them loud,” he said, smirking with an obnoxious amount of satisfaction.

The remark caused Alex to turn a bright red, and he reprimanded Thomas with a “This is a  _ public place, _ Thomas, emphasis on the  _ public,” _ and a smack on the wrist– though a tiny part of him stored that sliver of information away. For later use.

Things went smoothly after that. At one point, Hercules offhandedly mentioned something or other about the latest episode of Project Runway, which unsurprisingly caused Thomas to gasp and exclaim,  _ “You watch Project Runway?” _ What followed became a fifteen-minute long discussion about seemingly every aspect of the show, leaving Alex and John to exchange exasperated looks and shakes of the head and wonder when did they get such  _ nerds  _ for boyfriends.

Eventually their little get-together parted ways, only this time Alex was exchanging hugs and cheek kisses and “I’ll text you tomorrow”’s with John and Herc, a refreshing contrast from the last time he saw them. They met again soon after, when John insisted Alex and Thomas come over for dinner. It was nice, though a little odd to be back in his old apartment; it seemed that John had cut down on his habits quite a bit, as the thick smell of cannabis no longer permeated the air. (That, or he had treated the apartment with an  _ unholy  _ amount of Febreze.)

Alex and Thomas hadn't really discussed Alex’s future living situation, not directly, anyways; they had, after all, technically only been a  _ thing _ for a number of days– and while nothing about their relationship so far has been conventional, it still seemed a little weird for Alex to say “I’m moving in with you.” So when Alex insisted on giving Thomas a tour of the cramped little apartment, and just  _ happened  _ to pick up some more of his old things, neither of them mentioned it. And when a hefty box came in the mail a few days later containing all of Alex’s remaining belongings, neither of them said anything about that, either– just brought it upstairs and unloaded its contents. 

“You know, Christmas is in like, three days,” Thomas said as they found themselves curled together in Thomas’ bed, lazily running his fingers through Alexander’s hair.

“Mmm. You’re staying in the city, right?” Alex asked. A moment of reminiscence overtook him, and he was reminded of a time not too long ago when he asked a very similar question. The circumstances were far different now, though, and he didn’t freak out and run when Thomas answered– only smiled wider and buried himself closer into the taller man’s frame.

“Of course I am, darling,” Thomas replied, and Alex hummed in content. He let his mind wander, images of Christmases and birthdays and every other days spent together for years to come swirling in his thoughts. It was such a domestic fantasy, and yet somehow the idea brought him more thrill than even his darkest inner desires. Would they still be in this position ten, twenty years from now? Curled in each other’s arms, soothed by the hypnotizing lull of the city in the dead of night? Perhaps they wouldn’t be in the city at that point; Thomas had a wonderful home in Virginia. Flashes of faceless children came to the forefront of his mind, running and playing in the rolling fields of the countryside. Maybe they’d look like him, maybe they’d look like Thomas, maybe they’d look like neither of them, or both–

No, too far ahead. Alex shook his head to clear his mind, it was much too early to be thinking about things like that. He buried his face closer into the crook of Thomas’ neck, letting the taller man’s soft snores lull him into oblivion.

Within minutes, he drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> contrary to what the title of this chapter says, this is not technically the end. im writing an epilogue, which i will try to have out on sunday but like, no promises. (it wont be any later than monday though, that i can promise) i cant believe its almost over!!! thank u all so much for reading my silly lil story, lol.
> 
> find me on [tumblr](https://roseclipping.tumblr.com) and yell at me about this story, or jamilton, or make some bomb ass art, i lovelovelove hearing from you guys!!!
> 
> leave a comment if you enjoyed, i love hearing from you guys. (seriously, every time theres a number in my inbox i smile.)
> 
> cheers <3 and thank you for reading!


	10. epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which thomas looks back. and then looks forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's here guys, we've reached the end!! i can't believe it's really over. this has been such an experience to write and im so glad you guys have been enjoying it x
> 
> heres the epilogue, its nice and long. hope you enjoy. (and no, i don't know why this is set at christmas. it's literally april, what am i doing with my life.)
> 
> (set a year later, in case anyone is confused ^^)

“Alex, I’ve told you a thousand times, can you not leave your dirty laundry  _ on the bedroom floor?  _ It takes like, zero effort to just put them in the  _ hamper.”  _

Thomas came down the stairs with an exasperated expression to confront Alex, who was currently stretched out on the couch with a bowl of grapes in one hand and a phone in the other. Some show was playing quietly in the background on the television, and the cat was curled up on the arm of the couch, right above Alex’s head. It was quite the domestic scene, and Thomas would’ve taken the time to appreciate it more had he not been quite as annoyed.

A cheeky grin was Alex’s response. “See, I would, but it’s so much more fun to watch you bend over and pick them up for me.”

Thomas rolled his eyes and moved to the coffee table, gathering any bits of trash and empty cans that littered its surface. “You’re ridiculous, Alex.”   
  
“And yet you still love me.” 

“Debatable.” Thomas dropped what he was holding into the trashcan and crossed his arms, turning back to where Alex was pouting on the couch.

He leapt up from the sofa and strode over to Thomas, snaking his arms around the taller man’s waist. “It’s Christmas. Don’t be mean.” Alex rose to his tiptoes to give Thomas a little peck on the lips. It was such a common little thing, and yet the act made Thomas positively melt, and any semblance of annoyance or irritation dissipated. 

Thomas kissed him again, and perhaps in another situation it would’ve led to something more, but for now it stayed light and innocent– there was much to be done. “Come on. Help me clean up, we have company coming soon,” he said, pulling away from Alex and busying himself with straightening the couch cushions.

Immediately Alex brightened.  “I'll go get the streamers,” he said, turning on his heel to bound up the stairs. Thomas watched him go and chuckled to himself– they most certainly did not need to have streamers and there was so much more actual cleaning that needed to be done, but Alex’s excitement was so endearing that he couldn’t find it within himself to object. He continued instead with the task at hand; dusting and wiping down every surface till the place gleamed spotless, treating every piece of furniture with a lint roller to rid them of cat hair, organizing shelves and bookcases and cabinets until the living room looked like something straight out of a Metropolitan Home magazine. Alex had taken it upon himself to cover every surface with streamers, string lights, or other Christmas decorations, and by the time he was finished it appeared as though Santa’s workshop had exploded in the room. 

“I’m gonna put music on, you finish with the cooking,” Alex said, fiddling with the speaker. A minute later, music started playing. He had clearly put on his own personal playlist, which was a conglomeration of smooth jazz, underground rap, early-2000s pop-punk, 80s synth, and a plethora of other styles, none of which were actually Christmas music. 

“Would it kill you to play something  _ festive?”  _ Thomas called from the kitchen. Truth be told, he had gotten excited and done most of the cooking the night before, but there was still a few things that needed to be done. After all, they would be serving eight people, so it wouldn’t kill to go a little overboard with the food. 

Alex scoffed, affronted. “Shut up, this is good music!” As if to spite Thomas, he turned the volume up louder. Thomas paused to listen– some generic girl singer crooning about this or that.

_ ‘It’s just a spark, but it’s enough _

_ To keep me going on…’ _

“Yeah, we’re changing it,” Thomas said, ignoring Alex’s protests and changing the track to something more seasonally-appropriate. 

“You’re no fun,” Alex grumbled. Thomas smirked and threw an arm around the shorter man’s shoulders.

“And yet you still love me.” Thomas parroted the words Alex had said to him not long ago, punctuating the phrase with a playful jab to Alex’s side, right between the ribs. 

The smaller man wriggled from his grasp, but stayed close. “What time are people coming again?” 

Thomas glanced at his watch. “An hour? Hour and a half? James is usually early, though.”

Alex nodded thoughtfully. “So is Angie. I should probably change.” He gestured to his current outfit– light grey sweatpants and a stained blue t-shirt. Thomas nodded in agreement. While ‘Alex-in-sweats’ was a personal favorite of his, it probably wasn’t the best party attire. He should change too, now that he was thinking about it, and followed Alex upstairs. 

The bedroom door was wide open when he got there, with Alex already half changed, working to zip and button a pair of dark grey skinny jeans. Thomas came up behind him and wrapped two arms around his now-shirtless midriff, fingertips running lightly over the spots on his hips where he had put on some more weight, mostly thanks to Thomas’ home cooking. It wasn’t a lot, only a bit of pudge, yet Alex hated it– constantly complaining about it and prodding at himself in the mirror with an expression of distaste. Thomas couldn’t see why; Alex’s little love handles were one of his favorite aspects of his body, and it was an immense relief that his ribs no longer stuck out like they used to, dramatic and pronounced and glaringly obvious. 

“You’re beautiful,” Thomas murmured into Alex’s ear. He pressed his lips to the side of Alex’s neck, in that spot right behind the ear Thomas knew made him melt. 

It must’ve been a good day, or perhaps the Christmas spirit was really getting to Alex, because he made no sound of protest or complaint, no grumbling about his stomach or any other part of his body he was much too critical of. Instead, he turned his head to capture Thomas’ lips in his own, arms coming up to settle on the back of Thomas’ neck. Thomas smiled into the kiss and rested his hands on the small of Alex’s back, pulling him closer. They’ve been in this position countless times, and yet every time they kiss it feels like the first time all over again– hot and electric and exhilarating, yet comfortable and perfect, two puzzle pieces fitting together to create something beautiful.

Before the kiss turned into anything serious, Alex pulled away and flashed a devilish grin at Thomas. “Look what I bought,” he said, scurrying over to a bag on the far side of the room and bringing it back over. He reached in and pulled out the ugliest Christmas sweater Thomas had ever seen– an eye-assaulting mix of garish red and green, decorated with ugly little elves and snowmen and sequins and– oh  _ god,  _ there were  _ bells  _ on it– just looking at it gave Thomas a headache.

“That is the most horrifying thing I have seen in my life,” Thomas said, wearing an expression to match his words. 

Alex only grinned wider. “I know,” he said fondly, “it’s  _ hideous.”  _ With that, he pulled it over his head and proceeded to strike a variety of poses, even going so far as to strut theatrically in front of Thomas as though modelling it on a runway. “Like what you see?” 

“I stand by what I said. That sweater is god-awful.” Thomas stepped closer and slid an arm around Alex’s waist. “And yet for some reason I still wanna make out with you.” 

Their lips brushed. Alex leaned in slightly closer, Thomas felt his eyes flutter closed, but then suddenly Alex leapt away from Thomas with an expression of impish glee. 

“Not yet,” he said, picking up the bag again. “First, you have to put on yours.” He reached inside and produced an equally horrendous sweater, this one covered in snowflakes and atrocious caricatures of reindeer. Alex shoved it in Thomas’ direction, clearly gesturing for him to put it on.

Thomas pushed the offending garment away from him with a grimace, as though merely touching the thing might make him catch the ugly. “There is no way in hell I’m wearing  _ that,”  _ he said promptly, instead reaching into their shared wardrobe and pulling out a tasteful maroon sweater, simple and elegant yet just red enough to count as festive. 

Alex pouted. “Where’s your Christmas spirit?” 

Thomas cast a judgmental glance at Alex’s sweater. “Where’s your dignity?” 

“Clearly I don’t have any, otherwise I wouldn’t be dating you,” Alex shot back cheekily. 

Thomas rolled his eyes but didn’t respond, and finished changing into a nicer pair of jeans. A black pair, ones that he’d had for a while, which he knew to be Alex’s personal favorite. This was further confirmed by the way Alex eyed them hungrily, eyes unapologetically glued to his ass without trying to hide it. 

“Your fuck-me jeans. I like it,” Alex said, one hand slipping down to cup Thomas’ ass. “Maybe tonight I can open my Christmas present.” He punctuated the suggestive statement with a quick squeeze.

The statement didn’t have  _ quite  _ the effect Alex was going for, because Thomas wrinkled his nose in disgust. “That was the most cringe-inducing thing I have ever heard you say. Do me a favor and never utter those words again.” 

Alexander huffed and pulled away. “Like I said, you’re no fun. Honestly, why do I even keep you around.” 

Thomas shrugged, pretending to look thoughtful. “I don’t know… my devilishly good looks? Charming and charismatic personality? Amazing in bed? Really, Alex, you have lots of options, I could keep going…” 

“How humble,” Alex said, rolling his eyes. “Now come on. We have to finish getting ready.” He took Thomas’ hand and led him back downstairs.

They finished tidying and preparing for the party with time to spare, and thus found themselves side by side on the couch, waiting for guests to arrive. 

Alex turned and played with the collar of Thomas’ sweater. He hummed, and leaned up to place a kiss on Thomas’ jaw, eliciting a gasp from the taller man. He pressed another kiss, and another, and another, and it wasn’t until Alex had climbed directly on top of him that Thomas made any noise of protest. 

“Mmm– not that this isn’t–  _ nice,”  _ Thomas said between hot little breaths as Alex peppered his neck and jaw with little kisses, “–but we have–  _ people  _ coming–”

A little chuckle escaped Alex. “They’ll knock. We’ll hear it.” 

That was all the reassurance Thomas needed, really, because then one hand was under Alex’s jaw, tipping his face up to catch Alex’s lips in a kiss. A tiny moan escaped one of them, Thomas wasn’t sure who; but it didn’t matter because now Alex’s hands were creeping up under his sweater, coming to a rest right on his chest, and his body was rocking slowly on top of Thomas’ in a way that could be described only as hypnotizing, enticing, irresistible–

Their little impromptu makeout session was about two seconds from turning into something more before it was interrupted by a loud clearing of the throat coming from in front of them. 

Thomas jumped in surprise, Alex lips left his and his hands withdrew from under Thomas’ shirt, but neither of them made any move to get up from their current position; only looked up at the intruder with matching crooked, slightly sheepish grins. 

James didn’t look shocked, only unimpressed. “I have a key to your house, Thomas,” he said, holding up the key in question. “Or did you forget.” 

“No, didn’t forget,” Thomas said, which, okay, that was kind of a lie, “just got, ah,  _ sidetracked.”  _ He nodded his head at the man in his lap, who gave a little wave as if nothing was out of the ordinary. 

“Hey, James,” Alex said, nonchalant, as if a casual greeting might make the situation any less awkward. James said nothing, only stared down at the two of them with an eyebrow raised, clearly waiting for something. 

After a beat, it seemed Alex got the hint, as he rolled off of Thomas in one swift movement and crashed down beside him. He jingled slightly as he went– that damn sweater,  _ how  _ had Thomas let him get away with wearing it, holy shit. 

James rolled his eyes, though the corners of his lips were upturned in the slightest of smiles as he lowered himself into one of the chairs adjacent to the couch. “Really, guys, it’s been over a year, must you  _ still _ behave like teenagers?” 

A wave of nostalgia hit Thomas–  _ it’s been over a year.  _ Which, of course, Thomas was well aware of– how could he not be? At the same time, hearing someone else say those words made it feel just that more real, just that more exciting. They’ve been together for a year– a  _ year! _ So much had happened in that time, and yet it felt like it was only a few days ago when a box came to their doorstep with all of Alex’s extra stuff. Thomas had been promoted, Alex was on his third and final year of law school, hell, they’d even gotten a  _ cat.  _ He glanced at Alex, who had already jumped into an animated– and mostly one-sided– conversation with James and felt a sudden rush of emotion. This was the person he loved, wanted to spend the rest of his life with, at his side on his– on  _ their  _ couch; a place which seemed so mundane and yet so many cherished memories had been made on it. It felt surreal. 

A knock on the door brought Thomas back to reality, and he leapt off of the couch to answer. Angelica stood in the doorway, holding a bottle of wine and wearing a bright smile. 

“Thomas!” Angelica exclaimed, shoving the bottle into his hands and throwing her arms around him. “It’s been so long, I haven’t seen you in ages! Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, Angie,” Thomas said jovially, setting the wine bottle down on the counter to give her a more proper hug. He led her to the living room, where Alex greeted her with a smile and tight hug. James nodded politely; the two had met once or twice at various parties and get-togethers but weren’t quite close enough to be considered ‘friends,’ more like ‘amiable acquaintances.’ 

“Eliza should be here any minute,” Angelica said, settling in the chair next to James, “She texted me just before I left. Don’t know about anyone else, though.” 

As if on cue, another knock on the door sounded through the house, though this time it was Alex who bounded to the door to answer. Exclaims of “Eliza!” and “Merry Christmas, Alex,” could be heard from the entryway, and a moment later Alex was sauntering back into the living room with Eliza in tow. 

“Merry Christmas Thomas, James,” Eliza said, waving at each of them with a glowing grin. 

John and Hercules arrived some time later, crashing into the room with cheers and whooping, which pretty much signaled the beginning of the festivities. It wasn’t until nearly an hour later when a final knock on the door drew everyone’s attention. Thomas padded to the door and opened it with bated breath, only to be nearly knocked to the ground by a flurry of gangly limbs and lanky torso engulfing him in a bone-crushing hug.

“Gil!” Thomas half-yelled, half-wheezed, seeing as most of the air was being squeezed right out of his lungs. 

_ “Thomas! _ It is so good to see you, mon ami! It has been so long! Merry Christmas!” Lafayette exclaimed enthusiastically. He pulled away, beaming wider than ever, and held up a large bag. “I brought presents.” 

“We agreed on no presents!” Thomas said, though he wasn’t surprised in the slightest. This  _ was _ Laf, after all. 

Lafayette just shrugged. “What can I say, I got excited. Now move, move, I must see everyone!” He pushed past Thomas to greet the others, and Thomas was suddenly overcome with joy. Gil was back, he was  _ back, _ after nearly two years of being away in France he was back and here to stay. Everyone he loved was here under this one roof and it was  _ Christmas  _ and he could not recall a time where he had been happier. 

Thomas went back into the living room where Laf was busy handing out various gifts, all of which seemed to be expensive-looking cheeses and other delicacies. 

“I had to sneak these on the plane, you know,” Laf said as he handed a bag of some kind of chocolate to Hercules. “It’s technically illegal. So, ah, do not eat them in front of the police.” 

“Never mind the food, how was France?” Alex asked, eyes shining with joy. It was a look that suited him, Thomas thought. 

Laf smiled. “Beautiful as always, mon cher,” he said fondly. Something soft gleamed in his eyes. “I met someone. Her name is Adrienne.” 

Any sounds of cheers or coos were overshadowed by a loud gasp from Alex.  _ “What?” _ he exclaimed, eyes wide as saucers. “You  _ met someone?  _ And you didn’t  _ tell me?”  _

The Frenchman offered a crooked smile. “What can I say, I wanted it to be a surprise. But here, let me show you pictures…” Laf whipped out his phone as everyone crowded around him, oohing and ahhing at the beautiful woman in the photographs. Thomas watched the scene unfold, his eyes first focussing on Gil but then straying back to Alex. They always strayed back to Alex, and how could they not? There was something so captivating, so profoundly enticing about Alexander Hamilton and Thomas doubted that he could ever quite get used to it. There would always be more surprises, always new revelations about Alexander and Thomas was sure he would never  _ quite _ figure him out. That was okay, though, because he always loved a challenge, and if it took a lifetime to figure Alexander out then so be it. Thomas certainly wouldn’t be complaining. 

With a bit of a shock he realized that his eyes were watering, not quite on the verge of tears but nearly there. How profound, even after an entire year he could still be this overwhelmed with emotions from simply  _ thinking  _ about Alex. Thomas wasn’t sure if that was awe-inspiring, or perhaps pathetic on his part. Maybe both. Probably both. 

He shook his head slightly to pull himself together and rejoined the festivities; internal monologuing could be saved for another time. Now was a time for laughing with friends, drinking wine, dancing to Christmas music in the living room despite being cursed with two left feet– seriously, his version of ‘dancing’ was an odd sort of glorified shuffling and jumping– but no one said anything of it. Spirits were too high, and perhaps the wine had warmed everyone’s blood just enough so that his skills– or rather, lack thereof– went unnoticed. 

At some point in the night, Thomas wasn’t sure exactly when, he found Gil and himself alone in the kitchen. They exchanged idle chit chat for a minute or two before the inevitable was brought up.

“So, how’s things with you and Alexander?” Laf asked, lips pulling back into a toothy grin. 

Thomas smiled wistfully. “Great. Great. It’s… so great,” he said, and his enamored tone compensated for what was lacking in eloquence. “I… fuck, I really love him.” 

“I can tell,” Laf said. He swirled his drink with a delicate hand and took a sip. “You ought to be thanking me, mon ami. I am, after all, the reason you are together.”

Thomas blinked. “What?”

“He Skyped me,” Laf clarified. “Last year. Telling me ‘oh Laf, I don’t know what to do, Thomas is too handsome and beautiful and I’m in love with him, whatever shall I do?’ And of course, I say to him, ‘Alex, he is so fucking in love with you, literally you could buy him a single rose and bam, he is all yours.’” He paused. “Well, I don’t remember the  _ exact  _ conversation, but it went something like that, I think.”

Huh. “Alex never told me that,” Thomas said, chuckling a bit. What an Alex thing to do, really. 

Lafayette nodded matter-of-factly. “Oui, it is true. So, ah, you’re welcome.” He winked at Thomas, who responded with a snort and a good-natured eye roll. 

“Thomas, Laf!” John burst into the kitchen and beckoned the two men. “Come on, we’re gonna watch Holiday Inn!”

_ What a ridiculous movie, _ Thomas thought vaguely– Alex’s doing, no doubt. It had always been one of his favorites, for whatever reason. Still, he followed John back into the living room, where the whole group had practically turned the living room into a nest of blankets and pillows; and were all sprawled out every which way on the furniture (and in John and Hercules’ case, the floor.) 

Thomas settled in his spot on the couch, where Alex promptly crawled right on top of him and plopped down like a dead weight. Thomas gasped a bit at the sudden weight, but made no move to change his position– just reached a hand up and threaded his fingers through Alex’s hair, holding him close. 

One movie turned into two, which turned into three, and by the time movie number four was over it was on the other side of midnight and people were getting tired. Slowly they filed out of the house, wishing their final “Merry Christmas’” and “see you soon”’s until all that remained were Thomas, Alex, and Laf.

“I should probably be heading out as well,” Lafayette said, yawning slightly. “It’s getting late.”

Thomas nodded sleepily and gave him a farewell hug. “It was great seeing you, Gil,” he said, “Better not leave me for France again.”

“Oh come on, you know he’s gonna be gone in two weeks to marry that lady-friend of his,” Alex said. He wrapped two arms around Laf’s waist, hugging him tightly. “You better invite me to the wedding.” 

Laf breathed a short laugh. “Of course, mon ami. Only if you invite me to yours.” He prodded Alex in the ribs and wiggled his eyebrows at Thomas, who felt himself blush.  _ Marriage… _ Surprisingly, the thought hadn’t truly crossed his mind; which seemed ridiculous, he had decided long ago that Alex was his soulmate, his other half, so it seemed only logical that marriage was the next step. At the same time, it seemed like such a foreign idea, such unknown territory that the thought was daunting, overwhelming. 

He forced himself out of his head long enough to say his final adieu to Laf, and just like that, he and Alex were alone. 

“Let’s go to bed,” Thomas said softly, taking the shorter man’s hand and leading him up the stairs. They stayed relatively quiet, other than Alex’s soft jingling as he walked, and the quiet was not broken until they laid side by side in bed, just on the cusp of sleep but not quite there yet.

“Do you think we’ll get married?” Thomas said softly, running a tender hand through Alex’s hair.

A pause. “Why do you ask?”

Thomas shrugged. “Just thinking. About us. About our future.”

Alex chuckled quietly, and even though it was pitch dark, Thomas knew the exact expression he wore. 

“Why, Thomas, are you proposing?” 

It was Thomas’ turn to pause. He wasn’t  _ proposing, _ persay; proposals were romantic and planned and involved a ring, and this was a soft, spontaneous exchange of whispered words in the dead of night– though, if Alex were to ask right here, right now, he knew for certain what his answer would be. 

“I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought about marriage until just now,” Thomas said. “I mean, I love you, and I want to spend my life with you, but marriage is just so…” he paused, searching for the right word, “... _ weird,  _ right?” 

Alex laughed, a little louder this time. “Yeah. It is.” A beat of silence passed before he spoke up again. “I’ve never really seen myself as the marriage type,” he said, voice hushed and timid. “But… I don’t think I would mind it. With you.” 

A flush of something warm and fuzzy washed over Thomas. “Me too,” was all he could muster up the words for, so instead just pulled Alex closer to him. 

“It’s too late to be talking about marriage shit, though,” Alex said, his breath hot on Thomas’ neck. “We can talk about it in the morning. I wanna sleep.” 

“Of course,” Thomas murmured. Alex was right, it was too late to be talking about such things. He was tired, dead tired, and all he really wanted to do was to drift off with Alex in his arms. 

“Goodnight, Thomas,” Alex said, already sounding as though he was half asleep. Sure enough, a moment later and he was snoring softly into Thomas’ side. 

In the morning, they might talk about marriage, might talk about opening a new chapter in their lives. Or perhaps nothing would be said of it and the subject would not be touched upon again until Thomas was kneeling before him with a little box and a question on his lips, and Alex would laugh and then cry and then kiss him and slip the ring on with shaky fingers. Or perhaps none of that would ever happen, and they go through life content with the way things are, because who needs a silly sheet of paper to justify something as strong as love, anyways?

All that would be discussed in the morning, or maybe it wouldn’t. For now, though, sleep was calling and Thomas was by no means going to resist. 

He brushed a strand of hair from Alex’s face, fingers barely touching the skin. His eyes fluttered shut, but not before a little whisper, barely audible, left his lips.

“Goodnight, Alexander.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, okay, its really done. this was the first piece of chaptered writing (as in, not just fanfic) i have EVER finished, what a milestone lol. the response to this story has been incredible, seriously each and every one of your comments has made me so happy you have no idea. i hope you enjoyed my silly little story, and i hope you all stick around to see what else i have in store x (or dont, ill still love you haha) 
> 
> come chat w me on [tumblr](http://www.roseclipping.tumblr.com), i seriously love hearing from you guys!!! im thinking of doing art/ficlet requests over there so hmu if you have any ;000
> 
> comments are much appreciated, i love hearing everyones thoughts on the story <3
> 
> hope you enjoyed, and thank you so much for reading! till next time ~


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